In Darkness, Redemption
by BethmooraRaven
Summary: My take on what could happen if Prince Nuada was resurrected after the events that took place in the Golden Army Chamber. Contains some O/Cs.
1. Chapter 1

Title: In Darkness, Redemption  
Author: BethmooraRaven  
Genre: Fantasy/Hellboy 2 crossover  
Rating: Above PG13 - Adult in places  
Warnings: In later chapters contains violence, some bad language and sexual content  
Synopsis: My take on what could happen if Prince Nuada was resurrected after the events that took place in the Golden Army Chamber.  
Credits/Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, place-names or any events previously seen in Hellboy2. All rights remain with their original owners. No copyright infringement is intended.  
Extra Notes: Apologies for mistakes in costuming, 'landscaping', continuation, etc.! I'm bound to make a few!!!

**Chapter One**

**Silence**

All was still in the dimly lit chamber. Nothing moved within its vast confines. That is not to say that it was devoid of inhabitants. Indeed, there was one lone figure occupying this immense space, and he was very much alive. Yes, now, he was the only living entity in the hollow emptiness, which had only a short while before been filled to overflowing with a multitude of sounds declaring the presence of life…lives, caught up in a moment of turmoil and battle.

The gnarled, ancient Goblin was staring down upon the shattered fragments of what would appear to have been a stone statue, of such beauty that it could only have been crafted by the hands of a great artisan. To a mortal observer, the details on the fragments could suggest that it had perhaps once been the carved image of a great warrior…or perhaps a King. The Goblin knew that both of these suppositions were, in essence, correct.

It was indeed the figure of a warrior, the last true warrior of his kind, and perhaps even the greatest of them ever to have lived. But this warrior was also a Prince. His destiny had been to rule as King, though not merely a mortal king ruling over a petty human domain…this was an Elf, who would be King of the Unseen World.

This was Prince Nuada, son of King Balor.

But, the Goblin also knew that these were not fragments of a lifeless statue. They were in fact all that physically remained of the great Prince. This had been his living, breathing body, turned to stone at the moment of his death, just as had happened to his father's body only days before…when Nuada himself had plunged a sword deep in the King's chest.

The Goblin finally shifted his gaze, away from the Prince's body, and across to another figure, also lying statue-like upon the floor...another body. He had, unknown to those involved, witnessed the events which led to these two lifeless forms lying here, still shocked by what had happened, and deeply fearing the consequences that would ensue.

This other figure, body, was that of Princess Nuala, twin sister of Prince Nuada. And it had been she who had taken the life of her brother.

By some cruel twist of fate, these twins had shared a peculiar psychic link, whereby each could in essence read the other's heart and mind, without the need to be in physical contact with each other as was usual with those of their race. But crucially, when in close proximity, they also felt each other's pain…and if one was wounded, this same injury would become physically manifest on the other.

And this link was the only weakness Nuala knew existed in the Prince, this was the means by which she had taken the life of her brother…by taking her own. By piercing her heart with a dagger, a blade which also had a twin, her brother at that very moment holding the other in his hand, preparing to kill the Red Demon who had challenged him for the right to control the Golden Army.

The Demon, and the friends who had come with him, were now gone, leaving behind them a scene which could very well reflect the fate of all the inhabitants of the Unseen Realm.

The Goblin finally moved, slowly shuffling along the floor with his crooked crutches to where a glint of light had caught his eye. 'Shiny!' he said smiling to himself, as he reached down to pick up his newly-found prize, a beautifully crafted weapon, a spear with silvered pommel, grip of black woven leather and ornate shaft, surmounted by a vicious yet beautiful pointed silver blade.

'Leave it!'

The Goblin froze mid-reach, greatly surprised by the sudden arrival of another visitor, his attention shifting quickly to the owner of this new and very angry voice. As he turned, his eyes were greeted by the sight of a tall Elf, not royalty this time, though his garb denoted one of high rank none-the-less. The baleful look cast by the golden eyes of this new visitor was enough to make the Goblin jerk his hand back away from the spear, and he again stood motionless.

The Elf was very quickly joined by others, all of them entering the chamber through the door bearing the Seal of Bethmoora. This was, in fact, a party of Elves who had left the Royal Court on a quest to discover what had befallen their only remaining legitimate leader and sovereign. As the newcomers entered they each let out a gasp of disbelief and dismay as they came upon the scene, seeing the bodies of the last of the Elven royal family, the last of the bloodline who had led them through every event, good and bad, for millennia uncountable. Each came to a silent standstill, unsure as to what they should do.

At last, the silence was broken by the Elf who had admonished the Goblin.

'What…what has happened here?' he asked shakily, trying to sound calm, but failing utterly. The Goblin looked up at the Elf, unsure of what to say for fear of the reaction it would receive. But, having no choice other than to answer, he opened his mouth to speak, and the words, thankfully, found themselves.

'Battle, Sir, battle and death.' The Elf's gaze did not shift from the Goblin, his words being vastly insufficient to explain the enormity of what had befallen the Prince and Princess. 'The Red Demon and his friends were here, Sir. They were trying to stop the Prince from waking the Golden Army.' The look in the eyes of the Elf was enough to keep the Goblin's explanation on track. 'The Demon challenged the Prince for the right to command the Army. It seemed that he may have won the battle and he took the crown, but as the Prince was about to strike him down with his dagger, the Princess…stopped him. She killed herself…and the Prince died with her.'

The Elf looked to the body of the Prince, then to the Princess, and back again, his expression one of fear and sorrow combined. No-one spoke. No-one moved. No-one knew what to do, say or even think…save one.

'Do you not possess magic that can undo what has been done? Is there no way to change this, to bring them back?'

This new voice belonged to a different individual. A woman. Her words were tinged with a naivety that was rarely heard in an Elven court, especially from an adult, but all present knew why she had spoken so, as she truly had no knowledge of the full scope of their power or what feats of magic it was possible for the Elves to perform. They had not used true magic for so long, that many did not believe they would be able to perform even minor works.

At the time of the truce between the Unseen World and the humans being forged, they had been forbidden to use magic in any circumstance that may be to the detriment of the humans. This sounded reasonable, considering the truce. But the humans were able to exploit this exclusion to their advantage since that day. If the Elves used magic to keep the creatures of the forest safe, the humans would say that this would make it impossible for them to hunt, so they would starve. If they used magic to protect the trees, the humans would bleat that they needed the wood for fires and building, and without them they would freeze to death.

And so it continued, more and more restrictions on the use of magic as the human population increased. Eventually, the humans decided they had no need to ask anything of the Elves, as they knew the King would not do anything that may break the truce with them, for he had a far greater wish for peace than any human. They encroached further and further into the Elven lands, until they had finally overrun the forests and moors and meadows. King Balor would not retaliate…and they knew this.

And now, after thousands of years, they had all but forgotten the Elves and the Unseen World, and the power they once wielded.

But now King Balor was dead. Would magic be tolerated, or even possible now?

-----------------------------------

Author's Note: Just a short one to get the ball rolling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Hope**

The woman searched each face for a sign that her question had a positive answer. They looked at her, at once unsure as to how to answer, and, for the most part, being themselves utterly doubtful as to the possibility of this feat. The Elves looked at one another, each face betraying the defeat that was felt in the heart of its owner. But an unexpected answer chimed in their ears.

'There is a way, but only one, known to bring one of Royal Blood back from the darkness,…' All heads turned to face the speaker. '…and it has not been done since before the time of King Balor's great grandfather.' The words were spoken by the King's advisor, the Wisdom-Keeper and Mage of the court. Six pairs of eyes gazed at him in hope. 'But this is very old magic and has specific requirements,' the Mage continued. 'Its use is only permitted in the most dire of circumstances, whereby our world would be left leaderless, with no legitimate heir extant. Therefore, I believe it is permissible in this case.' A hopeful smile passed over the faces of the party. 'But there is another proviso. It can only be performed with the help of one who has sworn the oath of allegiance to ALL members of the bloodline, and not the King alone, who rules at the time of oath-taking.' A great murmuring ensued, each Elf grasping at the hope given them by the words.

Some may be of the opinion that a King dying at the hands of his own son would be reason enough to negate any claim to the throne being made by his heir. But, in this case, and for reasons far outweighing the Prince's actions, the denizens of the Unseen Realm would have no other choice than to claim him as their rightful King. For the circumstances which had brought to an end the reign of King Balor were not the issue most requiring of action or debate, but instead, and most urgently of all, they had to address the very real threat of the Unseen Realm being left leaderless and as such all magical folk being consigned to death and ultimate oblivion.

The murmuring continued for a few moments as each Elf took stock of the requirements for this feat to be at least attempted, but at last they came to the realization that each of them had indeed sworn loyalty to King Balor…but as was customary at the time of declaration, the wording was such that their allegiance was sworn to the King himself, no-one else. Silence fell over the group again. Just as their hope was raised, they had to see it dashed once more. One individual shifted nervously, as if trying to muster the courage to speak.

'What about me?' It was the naively spoken woman again. The Elves regarded her once more, surprised by her suggestion. 'I know I am not an Elf, but when I was granted a place at court, I did swear loyalty, to all of you in fact. Not just the King. And that means my allegiance included the Prince and Princess too.'

The Elf who led the party stared at the woman, quite taken aback by her offer. But, as no other was forthcoming, he turned to the Wisdom-Keeper, not really expecting an answer which would re-kindle hope in his heart. 'Could she possibly be suitable? Would the candidate not have to be of Elfkind for it to work?'

The aged Mage regarded the woman curiously, mulling the idea around in his mind, analysing and re-analysing the wording of the requirements till he was quite sure of his answer. 'The ancient texts say only that the subject must have sworn allegiance to the entire bloodline, not just the King. They do not stipulate that they must be of Elven blood. I believe she may well be eligible, though I cannot say with any certainty that it would be successful.'

The Mage's gaze remained fixed on the woman. 'It appears that you may be the one to save us from our current misfortune. But it comes at a cost that you may find too dear.' All present waited in silence for the Mage to continue. 'This working is to be performed to bring the true and rightful King back from the darkness. But we have a complicated matter on our hands. If the Prince had died, and the Princess had survived, she would have become our legitimate leader. But, the link that existed between them as twins means that we have lost them both at the same moment. I truly do not know what the outcome would be. We may be able to revive them both...but there is the possibility that the Princess cannot be revived. We may have lost her forever.'

Still silent, the Elves looked upon the body of Princess Nuala, silver tears glinting on a many a pale cheek. The Mage continued, 'The loss of the Princess would be a heavy burden to bear. But we may yet be granted the return of the Prince. And if fortune decides to smile upon us, perhaps the Princess too.' The party listened intently as the Mage's words began to sink in.

'The cost of this working is the highest possible for one to pay.' The Mage looked the woman directly in the eyes, so that she would truly grasp what he was about to say. 'The price for the Prince's life…is for you to take upon yourself the wound which killed him. Nothing and no-one else can do this.' There were a number of shocked gasps from the Elves, yet the woman stood quietly, taking in the enormity of what had been asked of her. Time seemed to slow down as she reeled inwardly with sudden fear.

She would die. She looked from one pale Elven face to another, trying to still the panic she felt, trying to breathe more slowly. Her heart pounded in her chest. Yet as she looked upon the faces of these beings of an almost ethereal beauty, all of whom had become her friends, and loving them all so dearly, her thoughts slowed, stilled and coalesced into a calm and undeniable truth. If she did not do this thing, accept this price, they would themselves all fade into nothingness, they and all other inhabitants of the Unseen Realm. They would die. No more Elves, Trolls, Goblins, Fairies or other magical folk would remain, leaving the world dim, cold and heartless without them.

Die for them, or leave a world without them? The choice was suddenly the easiest she had ever had to make. 'I accept the price. If losing my life is the means of returning the Prince to you, then I shall give it willingly and with love.'

If it were at all possible, the silence seemed to deepen. All eyes were upon the woman. The Mage stepped forward and took her hand. 'This gift is the greatest that anyone could give our people. And we have no choice other than to accept it. But our hearts are broken by the loss of one whom we love. All honour and love is yours, for you are courageous beyond all reckoning.'

The Mage moved to the woman's side. 'We will have to work quickly. It is time,' he said gently.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Returning**

The woman stood there, feeling strangely serene as each Elf came forward in turn to show their affection and gratitude, and ultimately say their goodbyes, in whichever way they felt they could, some holding her hands in theirs, others with a gentle kiss on cheek or forehead, some hugging her close and whispering their own special message to her. She spoke gently to each of them, reaffirming their friendship and love and even trying to comfort them, as the depth of sorrow that weighed on their hearts that day was unfathomable.

At last, the Mage took her hand in his and led her to where the Prince's body lay. He released her hand and stood for a moment studying the fragments of honey-coloured stone that littered the black flagstone floor. After short consideration, he moved his hand through the air over them and mumbled something she could not hear. All at once the multitude of stone fragments began to rise from the floor and to reassemble themselves piece by tiny piece until they finally coalesced into the fully-formed 'statue' of the Prince, as he had been when his soul had left his body, fallen to his knees as the blood had poured from the terrible wound in his chest and his life had ebbed away.

This done, the Mage addressed the woman, who stood to one side of him. 'As the Prince's soul is called back from the darkness, his body will become flesh again, and the wound he bears will heal from his heart outwards until it is no more. At the same moment, the wound will appear on your body, moving deeper until it reaches your own heart.' The woman's face paled further at the thought of the pain she would feel. It frightened her, but her resolve was firm. She did not waver. But the Mage had already taken this into consideration and thankfully was able to offer some small aid.

He brought a vial of greenish-brown liquid out from under his robes and handed it to her. 'If you drink this,' he said, '…it will dull the pain somewhat, but I cannot take it from you fully, for that could prevent this working being successful. I carry this for my own use whenever I have pains in my old fingers. Writing so much, they do ail me sometimes.' His eyes were filled with sadness. 'It will only help a little, but it is all I can do.' With a wry, sad smile, she thanked him and opened the vial, drinking the slightly bitter contents gratefully. She could feel a warm sensation spreading through her body as the draught went down, a slight tingle in her fingers and toes, then a strangely comforting numbness throughout, not totally unfeeling, but a gentle sensation, like being wrapped in something soft.

The Mage then asked her to kneel down, facing the Prince and she did as she was asked. It felt strange being face to face with this stony form. She gazed at him for a moment, noticing an expression of sorrow was still present on his face as he had died, the same sorrow he felt the last time she had seen him. He was very beautiful, she decided. She had thought him quite as beautiful as all the Elves were, the first time she had seen him, on the day he had so abruptly returned from exile and come to the court of the King to declare his intention of waging war against the humans.

The memory echoed in her mind, seeing him enter the make-shift 'throne room', proud and angry...fiercely so, yes. But at the same time sadness was evident in him. When his father would still not accept the truth of his words he was saddened. And when his father had sentenced him to death…and his sister had not spoken against this…the look of sorrow he wore was enough to break her own heart…..

Her thoughts were interrupted by the Mage taking her hand once more. He brought out a small, sharp knife and made a small cut the tip of her index finger. As the blood welled, he bade her place three drops onto the Prince's chest, where the wound was located. 'This is ancient magic, from the earliest times of our people,' he explained. 'When the life-force of an individual is called for, the most powerful substance which can be used as a catalyst for the magic to work is some of their own blood. But only a little is required at this time.'

At last the preparations were finished. The Mage gently kissed the woman on the cheek. 'Thank you, dear one,' he whispered, stroking her hair as if he were a parent addressing his own child. This done, the Mage stood to the side of the two kneeling figures and raised his arms, a hand hovering over each of their heads. He pictured the texts before him, seeing the script penned in lines across the parchment, focusing on the writing, reading the words…and began to intone the incantation he could now decipher…

'Our rightful King is lost to darkness. We seek him in the shadows.  
We ask for his return in this our hour of greatest need.

An exchange shall be made, in full willingness and knowledge, one wound for another, as is required.'

A very slight breeze disturbed the stillness of the chamber, and the party of Elves looked at each other, hardly breathing, anticipation beginning to grow within them.

'Through blood, freely given, this contract is bound.  
May the soul we have lost now be returned to us.'

The wind strengthened, blowing around the chamber. From the dark recesses of the vaulted ceiling, minute, silvery white specks of light began to appear, seemingly caught up by the swirling current of air. More and more of these tiny specks arrived, creating a silvery stream of light.

Seeing this, the Mage continued his incantation.

'As a river flows across the land to join the sea, may this soul flow back across the divide between darkness and light, to be united once again with the form of flesh and bone in which it once resided.'

At this, the wind became a whirling vortex, the stream of light moving with it, and then slowly beginning to trickle down toward the wound in the Prince's chest where it appeared to be absorbed by the stone. But, as everyone watched, it began to slowly split, becoming two separate streams of light. The other swept across the chamber, and began to trickle into the form of the Princess.

The woman watched as the flecks of light continued to flow into the Prince's stone form, but, moment by moment the stone was changing. It began to glow with a strange dull red light, as if it were becoming burning embers, flickering as it moved across the stones surface. Here and there, colours began to emerge, the honey-colour of the stone becoming paler and paler as the white of his skin returned to face and hands. His dark lips and eyelids flushed with colour, and his hair regained the white-blonde hue that was common to all the Elves, each strand becoming free of its stony bonds and moving in the breeze.

At this same moment, the Elves who stood beside the Princesses body could see the same metamorphosis beginning.

Eventually the ivory, gold and red colours of the Prince's clothing were returning, each fold of cloth relinquishing the hardness of stone and becoming soft and flowing once more. And, at last, the woman watched as a dark stain appeared, and a trickle of blood began to flow from the now re-formed wound in his chest. At this same moment, a small, red stain appeared just below her breast, slowly expanding across the pale green of her dress, the same appearing upon the Princesses form too.

And this is when she began to feel it, beginning as a sharp pain as if she had been badly scratched, but it was growing, becoming more and more intense as the Prince's wound began to slowly heal, and hers became deeper at the same rate. Before her she could see that the Prince was stone no-more, but fully flesh and bone, and that the flow of blood from his wound had stopped. However, for her the agony was increasing moment by moment, until she could not take any more. The last of the colour drained from her cheeks until she was deathly pale. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and though she needed desperately to take a breath, it would not come.

Suddenly, the Prince's eyes opened wide, bright yellow-gold irises surrounding dilated black pupils that constricted in an instant, and a shuddering breath filled his lungs. He blinked and fell forward, coughing and gasping for breath, the Mage just managing to put his hands out in time to break his fall. But nothing broke the woman's fall as her eyes rolled back and she fell limp to the floor.

The vortex which had surrounded them all became nothing but a soft breeze, which sighed gently before vanishing.

The Mage looked sorrowfully at the woman's prone body, but there was nothing he could do for her now. He carefully helped Nuada to his feet, as he blinked and shook his head, his vision blurred and feeling totally disorientated. Two of the other Elves also rushed down and ran to where the Mage and their Prince were standing. They bent down to the woman, one of them taking off her cloak and covering the body carefully and with great respect.

'Sire, are you alright?' asked Ecris, holding the Prince's arm so that he did not fall again. The sound of this voice seemed to help, and Nuada looked to its owner. He finally recognized the face and voice of his old friend and tutor, whom he had not seen since the day he left Bethmoora to begin his self-imposed exile. 'Ecris?' he said, still unable to get his mind to focus properly, though his eyes had thankfully consented to do their job properly at last. 'Sire.' The Mage bowed his head to the Prince, finally able to show the proper respect. 'How do you feel?' It seemed like a rather pathetic question, but how else could he judge the Prince's condition? Nuada looked at the Mage, not really knowing how to respond. He did not really know how he felt. He did not even know how he came to be ABLE to feel for that matter. He shook his head, unable to answer. 'What…happened?' was all he could say. He looked totally bewildered. The Elves moved aside, and he saw the woman's body on the floor. 'Who..?'

'It is a very long tale indeed, Sire. …'


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four  
**

**Shock**

Ecris tried as best he could to slowly explain the events of the last few minutes, making sure the Prince was in full understanding of what had happened to him, and how it had come about.

In shock, and with Ecris at his side, Nuada slowly walked across the chamber and climbed the steps to the platform on which Nuala was lying. He stood motionless, gazing down at her as a silver tear rolled down his cheek. The space in his mind that she had occupied for so long was now empty. No trace of her remained. He stared down at the face of the sister he had loved so deeply, probably loved too much. She was flesh now, as he was. But her eyes were still closed. She breathed. But there was no other movement.

His mind burned with the memory of their last hours together since his return from exile. Of how she had been more willing for him to die than for him to help their people, whom she professed to love, to fight back against the humans who had pushed them all so close to extinction...and how, at the end of it all, she had chosen the stranger called Abraham over her own brother. How she had been prepared to die to preserve the humans – and to take him with her.

The pain of her betrayal felt a thousand times worse than that caused by the wound that had torn through his heart. At the last, as his life's blood was draining from him, he had reached out to her, in torment that the person he most loved in the world was leaving him. But as his mind found hers, he was met with cold rejection and the link they had shared all through their lives was severed. By her. He called out to her, but received no answer. Instead, she shared her last thoughts and emotions with the stranger Abraham. And here, at the end of this life, and for the first time ever, he was completely and utterly alone.

Standing there now, he felt…cold. Empty.

But this was Nuala. And though all these emotions were battling within him, there was still room for one more. Love. Despite all the feelings of betrayal and rejection that burned in his heart, he loved his sister. But where was she? He could not feel her. At all. After all that the Mage had tried to do, was the essence of her lost in the darkness?

He finally tore his gaze from the form of Nuala, and looked around at all there. They needed him. But how could he do anything now? He could not even think, let alone act. They had brought his soul back here, but it felt as if a huge chunk of it had been left behind in the darkness.

It was the sound of Ecris' voice that brought Nuada back from the torment of painful memory.

'Sire. We should move the Princess to one of the rooms. I need to examine her. I am as yet unsure if there is anything I can do for her. This has never happened before. And you must also decide where we are to lay the body. We must find a place for her until burial can take place.

Body. Indeed, there was another. Nuada looked over to the covered form which lay on the dark stone floor. 'There are rooms which can be used for now,' he said. 'We should prepare them.'

The Mage asked two of the Elves to lift the woman so they could carry her to one of the rooms. They nodded and carefully raised her, Nuada watching with a strange expression, noticing a detail that the others had failed to mention. As they came to where he was standing, he stopped them. Though dead, she had not become stone as an Elf would. This body was limp, and as they moved, a hand fell from beneath the cloak. He stared at the hand. It was pale, but not the ivory-white of an Elf's skin. He moved forward and grasped the hand, pulling back the cloak to reveal her face. He was stunned.

'HUMAN!' He could not believe his eyes. Still holding the hand, he stood for a moment in utter shock, staring at her face. How is this possible? A human willing to give her life for an Elf? Perhaps two? And what on Earth was she doing there in the first place? The questions formed in his head, but he did not get the chance to ask them.

As he held the hand he felt a twitch in one of the fingers. Shocked, he let the hand fall. 'She is still alive!' His words brought looks of astonishment to the faces of those around him. The Mage was as stunned as the Prince. He rushed over to her and put a finger to her neck, looking for a pulse – and found one. It was weak, but it was there. 'She is indeed still clinging to life, but barely.' He looked at Nuada. It would be his decision as to what happened next.

'What would you have me do, Sire?' he asked. It did not matter what he wanted to do. The Prince held the power of life and death in this. He was their leader now, and he had to obey. 'We will take her to the room I prepared for myself earlier.' He began to walk, but a movement further off caught his eye.

Not far off, he saw the Goblin, still standing in silence, hoping they would forget he was there, so he could scuttle off out of the way. He also saw what was lying at his feet. He approached him, yellow-gold eyes taking everything in. 'I fear this may be a little TOO shiny for you, Goblin' he said. A very sheepish look crossed the Goblin's face as he realized Nuada had known exactly what he was thinking. 'However, I am sure we shall find you a trinket or two, if you have patience,' The Goblin's eyes lit up, 'AND you are willing to follow instruction.' He could see that flippancy was not his best option under the circumstances, and so he bowed his head to the Prince.

Nuada bent down and picked up the spear. It felt good to hold it, an old friend, comfortable and familiar. The only thing that felt even remotely the same as before. But he had no time to dwell on that now.

He turned back to the waiting Elves and nodded towards the doorway. 'This way.' He led the way out of the chamber, and they followed close behind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Hanging By A Thread**

As a matter of urgency, the party of Elves carried the human and the Princess through the half-lit corridors and halls of what had been the great Court of Bethmoora, following the Prince to where he had made a make-shift dwelling area for himself and his sister upon arrival. He could never have dreamed that one of the beds would now be occupied by a human instead. A HUMAN!

He showed the Elves who carried his sister to the room which he had prepared for her earlier. He was numb. What was he supposed to feel now? Love was there. But the voices crying 'betrayal' and 'rejection' were shouting loudest. He watched as they laid her on her bed and tended her. It was as if she were asleep. But if she were just sleeping, wouldn't he still feel her?

He felt suddenly suffocated. He needed to get away from this room. At least for now.

'I will send Ecris as soon as he is able to attend.' was all he could say. He walked from the room and entered the one next to it, to see what had become of the human.

She had been laid carefully down, and the Mage was again checking her condition. He lifted her eyelids and there was an almost imperceptible reaction to the light of the torches which had been lit by one of the attending party. Her pulse and breathing were just as hard to detect, but they were present. 'She is living yet, Sire, but barely. If we do nothing, she will not last an hour.'

Nuada's mind was reeling. His first thought would usually have been to let the human die. One less to leach the Earth of its vital energy or poison it through the greed and selfishness with they were all imbued. But here she lay before him, so near to the darkness to which he had himself been consigned so short a time ago, because she had helped him, and his sister, to return from it – willingly taking his place so that his people would have at least a slim chance of halting the inevitable fade into oblivion that awaited them all.

He wanted to know why she had done this. What could make a human behave in such a selfless way. He had always believed them to be incapable of such actions. She must be saved so that he could at least question her.

'What can be done for her?' he asked. 'It depends on why she still lives,' said Ecris. 'Your wound, Sire. Is it fully healed?' he asked, an almost impossible notion coming to him. Nuada felt no real pain in the wound now, but there was a sticky sensation when his clothing moved against it. He removed the ivory-coloured armour and under-jacket, the blood crusting on the inside where it had gushed with some initial force. The red silk undershirt, however, was definitely sticky with fresh blood. He undid the fastenings on the shirt and pulled it away from his skin, causing him to wince slightly. Removing this last layer revealed the wound at last. It was not deep enough to cause any great concern, but was still oozing blood, which freely trickled down his chest now that the garments were not there to absorb it.

Upon seeing this, the Mage began to open the layers of clothing covering the same area of the woman's chest. Careful to be respectful of her form, he uncovered a very much deeper wound which was still bleeding, though the flow was obviously slowing as she bled out. The Mage was perplexed. 'She has lost a great deal of blood, but even so, I would have expected more if the wound had reached her heart. We may yet be able to save her.'

'Do what you can, then,' Nuada instructed, as he tended his own wound, not ungraciously declining the attendances offered by one of the other Elves. Through necessity he had become accustomed to dealing with the less serious wounds he had acquired during his time of exile. There were, luckily, very few occasions in which a more serious injury had been dealt him during a fight, and he had been fortunate enough to have the aid of his loyal bodyguard, and loyal friend Mr Wink at these times. He missed having the big, gruff troll at his side. They had been almost like brothers, however unlikely that would have been deemed by anyone observing the pair on their travels.

Yes, he would be greatly missed.

Ecris had finally come to something of a conclusion as to what had happened. 'It appears that when the wound was about to reach her heart, its progress was somehow halted. It is for this same reason that you still carry a small wound yourself, Sire, though at this moment, I cannot fathom why this is so.' He looked slightly bewildered. This was wholly unexpected. He had had no doubt at all that the woman was to die of her wound.

'However, more urgent considerations must be made at this time,' he said, turning to one of the female Elves. 'You must go above and seek some medicinal herbs for me.' He named a handful of herbs, which he sincerely hoped would still grow wild in the crevices of the rocky moor land above. The Elf nodded, and another followed her out of the door. Two pairs of golden eyes would definitely be better than one when time was so short.

A fire was lit in the hearth and water collected in an iron cauldron which was hung by a chain over the flames. The Mage staunched the woman's wound as best he could using thick pads of cloth torn by another Elf from the hem of her own robes, and securing it with a long bandage of the same cloth wrapped around her ribs.

Nuada was finished with his own dagger wound, and was now examining the slash to his right arm that he had sustained in his fight with the Red Demon. He decided that it was nothing more than a flesh wound, so he did no more than to wash it with cold water. Elves healed quickly and it was already very congealed. He gave it no more thought.

He pulled a black undershirt from the pack of belongings he had brought with him. He had very few items of clothing, a cloak, two pairs of boots, one of which he was wearing, and various pieces of Elven armour. Apart from his weapons, that was all he required. Not much for a Prince perhaps, but more than adequate for a warrior wandering the Earth with no real home to speak of.

As he dressed, he watched as the Elf who had donated the dressings seated herself next to the human and held her hand. There were tears in her eyes. He frowned to himself, bemused by the affection in which the party all appeared to hold the woman. Ecris saw him regarding the female Elf, and decided that he needed to know who the others were. He began to introduce those who still occupied the room with them, and Nuada acknowledged them each in turn.

'This is Oacma,' he said, and the Elf who had first entered the chamber bowed low to the Prince. 'It was he that your father had given the task of keeping us one step ahead of the humans, and who also set us on this journey to find you.'

'This is Sciana.' He moved to stand beside the female Elf. She stood and bowed, then seated herself beside the woman again. 'She has been helping me for a long while with my tending of the sick and injured who come to us for aid in these dire times.'

A question from one of the other Elves took his attention away from the Prince for a moment.

'And who is she?' Nuada asked Sciana, indicating the human female. Sciana looked up at him nervously. She knew any talk of humans would probably anger him. 'Her name is Naeva, Sire.' She looked at him, unsure of exactly how much he actually wanted to know.

'So. She has a name. But WHO is she? And why is she here?'


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Revelation

Nuada was not in the mood for pussyfooting about. Still very nervous, Sciana continued, the Mage glancing over every so often, taking in the proceedings as he went about the business of preparing a healing draught. 'She has been with us for ten years or so'. Nuada was shocked. So long! Why so long? On extremely rare occasion, Fey folk had taken in foundling human children if discovered wandering alone in the wild places. They were fed, and clothed if needed, but were taken fairly soon after to human settlements where they would be left in a place of safety. Once found by the humans, the Fey would return to their own lives and leave the child to theirs. But an adult? What in the name of the Gods could have been reason enough to take one into their world? This was unheard of. Unthinkable! Yet here she was, living among them.

Sciana saw the look on Nuada s face and decided she had better continue. 'The King had decided to move Court to the land they call England. We have moved many times since your leaving, Sire'. She said this with great sadness. He knew about this. He knew that his father had decided to leave behind the once great palace as it began to fade and die, this tragedy being caused by the effects of the dark magic the goblins had used to create the Golden Army. Nuada had cut all ties with Bethmoora, but as he travelled he had come across Fey folk who knew the whereabouts of the King and Court. They had been forced to move time and time again, as the humans either encroached upon their territory, or more recently, if some human or other had become aware of their presence. They could not take the risk of more humans discovering them. They were too few in number to put up any kind of prolonged resistance. There were Fey folk of every kind living like nomads all across the world, adrift and lacking any kind of permanent focal point. The Unseen Realm had become merely scattered remnants of a once great people, hiding in what remained of the forests and wild places of the world, or, most often, in the ramshackle, abandoned and forgotten corners of the human world.

'It was because of one of our forced moves that we found Naeva', Sciana continued. 'We had settled for a while on the outskirts of one of their cities. We had not been there very long, and some of us had gone out to check the surrounding area. This is when we found her'. She looked down sadly at the face of the woman. 'She was hiding too, in one of their abandoned buildings. The one who found her was about to leave when she started to talk to him. He was using glamour to keep hidden. But somehow she could see him.' This was very strange indeed.

Nuada s eyes narrowed slightly. He was more than a little interested in this detail.

'She was very incoherent, but in her delirium she said something which caused him great concern. He called the others to listen, and upon hearing her words they decided that they had to take her back so that the King himself could hear. 'And what, pray, could a human possibly have to say which could be of any importance to the King?' His tone was more than a little sarcastic, his expression incredulous. Sciana had known what the Prince s reaction would be, so steeled herself in readiness. 'Sire, she gave a description of someone whom she had met whilst living on the streets. From what she said, it was more than clear that he was an Elf'. Again his eyes narrowed, not expecting this detail. At last they came to the crux of the matter. 'Go on', he instructed.

'The description she gave of him was very detailed. He would be older than yourself, Sire, though much younger than the King'. Sciana shifted nervously in her seat as she continued. 'And he bore a mark on his face. The mark of the Royal Bloodline of Bethmoora'. Nuada s eyes flashed with anger. There was no-one, NO-ONE, who had the right to wear the mark that denoted royalty. No-one left now but himself and his sister. The deep scar that traversed his cheek bones, across the bridge of his nose, was an ancient insignia, marking out the bearers as the true bloodline of the High Kings of the Unseen Realm. Some other clans had small marks of their own, but this one was prominent, as it was meant to be, for all magical creatures to recognise instantly.

'Who would dare carry the mark falsely?!' Nuada s raised voice startled all in the room. The Mage glanced over at the Prince, almost daring a scowl to show he needed quiet to perform his task of healing. Almost, but not quite, though Nuada grudgingly took the subtle hint and tried to calm himself somewhat. 'Only a fool would attempt such deception as this. If found they would pay with their lives for such treachery'. He was furious, but managed to keep his voice down. Sciana looked even more nervous now as she continued. 'Indeed, Sire. If it truly were a deception on their part. But the claim in this case may be legitimate'. Nuada was dumbfounded, his face one of disbelief and confusion combined. 'Explain!' was all he could manage to say.  
'This man bore another scar on his face, Sire, one caused by a weapon. A long, deep scar, from forehead to jawbone, across the left eye'.

Nuada felt a jolt of shock surge through his body, his face, he knew, betraying this but caring little. The name grew on his tongue, and he almost spat it out.

'BRES?!'

Bres. His uncle. The younger brother of his own father, King Balor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Grief**

'But…he is dead' he said in total disbelief. 'He perished with his mother's clan during the wars with the humans.'

His mind was reeling now. How could this be?

'Indeed, Sire, that is the conclusion your father and all who witnessed the aftermath had come to. The scene was terrible. The humans had cut them down with such brutality that it was impossible to identify many who had been killed. No sign was ever found to contradict this belief and so your father proclaimed him dead with the rest. He believed it so…until Naeva came to us.'

Nuada turned again to the bearer of this unforeseen and shocking information. The Mage had finished with his preparations and was now kneeling beside Sciana. He parted the woman's lips a little and tilted her head up, so that he could gently drip a golden liquid into her mouth from a cup he was holding. At first, the liquid spilled from her mouth and Sciana dabbed it up, looking very upset. 'Come now, Naeva,' said the Mage in a gentle voice. 'You must swallow this. It will help you.' Again he tried, and again it dribbled out of her mouth. 'Naeva, you must try,' he almost pleaded. 'The darkness has not yet claimed you, do not give in to it. Drink.' He tried again. The liquid spilled slightly, and his face fell. He looked beaten and tired. But, after a moment, the muscles of her throat moved a little – and she swallowed the potion. The Mage's eyes lit up at once, hopeful at last. Another small sip was taken. And another.

He looked up at Nuada with hope in his eyes. 'It is still too close to say, Sire – but she may yet pull through. We should know within the next twenty-four hours.' Nuada was more eager than ever to speak to her, to question her. He actually wanted this human to live.

He suddenly felt very weary. Too much had happened to him in the last few days and it seemed it may have caught up with him at last. 'I shall retire to the next room. There is much for me to consider.' He looked at the woman curiously. 'Ecris, I want to be informed of any change in her condition,' he said to the Mage, who nodded in acknowledgement. 'Or that of my sister,' he added quietly. The Mage bowed slightly. There was nothing he could say to help the Prince at this moment.

Nuada gathered his few belongings together, along with the cloak his sister had left there, and departed.

The room he had chosen was dark. He lit a torch in a sconce on the wall and looked around. Very like the one he had just left. The bed here was as dusty as the previous one, but he was too tired to care that much. He put his pack down and threw the cloak over the bed. Placing his spear on the bed too, he wearily lay down beside it. For some time he just lay there listening.

Silence.

For something so empty, silence had a weight of its own that could crush a person's spirit to the point of despair. True silence, true loneliness. He had never experience either before. In the quietest moments there had always been that tiny whisper, distant, indistinct, but there, the delicate movement of her mind in the depths of his own. Nuala. His twin sister. Bound to each other in a way no other two living in their world had ever been.

Now there was nothing but his own thoughts chasing round in his mind, like a never-ending game of hide-and-seek, searching every deep recess for a trace of her. But there was none. Her body was here, living, breathing. But the part of her that he knew best was gone. All he had left were the ghostly echoes of memory. And these he did not seek out purposely, they came unbidden, harsh and sharp and brittle…

His father sat on his make-shift throne, turning away from his only son. 'Death,' he had ordered. Death for his son, after so long apart. No time to listen to him, to open his heart to the truth of Nuada's words. Just his own impatient words and a slight wave of his hand, to dismiss all that his son had tried to say and do for his people. One word to silence the voice that pounded at the door to his conscience, demanding entry.

But this door was firmly bolted, and in front of it stood Nuala, serene in her desire for peace, in her decision to allow them all to fade into nothingness in favour of the brutish, hollow beings who had moved across the Earth, destroying all that was pure and natural, nothing more than a plague. She would accept death with her brother so that this infestation could grow unchecked until everything was gone.

The rage and frustration of that moment burned again within him.

Another memory crashed in like a storm wave smashing on rocks.

The immense chamber, the Golden Army awoken, and the crown taken from him. The dagger was in his hand and he waited for the demon to turn, he would not stab him in the back like a coward. The demon turns and he is ready to strike, to take the crown back and finish the task he had set himself, to save his people.

But instead there is searing pain, blood spurting from the wound that had torn his heart asunder. Nuala stood for a moment, as she pulled the dagger from her own heart. She looked straight at him for just that moment, then fell. He saw the stranger Abraham go to her. He saw her speak to him. And he felt it when she severed their link to each other.

He was left alone to sink into the darkness, weighed down with the knowledge that all he had tried to do for his people, all those centuries of searching for the crownpiece in the hopes of saving them all had come to nothing because of her.

Oh, how he wanted to sink into that darkness once more, to be unseeing, unhearing and unfeeling again.

The sorrow he had tried to evade finally found him, took his mind and body and demanded release. His sister's scent which lingered on the cloak across his bed provided the key. He breathed it in, and held it until his lungs burned for lack of oxygen. When he could hold it no longer, he let it out, a rasping gasp of despair. He tried to inhale again, but he couldn't breathe. His head swam, the blood pumped in his ears – and he was lost to his emotions.

In the next room, the party of Elves heard the roar of anguish that broke the Princes' silence. They exchanged glances, but nothing more. They knew better than to go to him now.

Nuada ripped the cloak from the bed and tore it in half, flinging the tattered cloth across the room. His legs decided they couldn't hold him up any longer and he sank to his knees, his face in his hands. He leaned forward and rested his head on the bed before him. His shoulders moved as the first silent sobs took a hold of him, silver tears welling unstoppable. He hadn't cried since he left Bethmoora. It seemed there was a lot of catching up to do.

The Mage was the only one to hear, as Nuada pushed his face hard into his hands, trying hard to muffle the sound. He had quietly moved to the Prince's door, wanting to check on him after checking his sister. He said nothing and made no sound, but crept away to leave Nuada alone in his grief. This would be better for him than any herbal draught he could muster. Nuada would never know he had been there.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Past Challenges**

He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep, couldn't remember picking himself off the floor to lie on the bed once more.

When he opened his eyes the room was in virtual darkness, the torch having sputtered out hours before. The only light was coming from outside his room, shining under the door, faintly illuminating the flagstones. But this half-light was ample for his golden Elvish eyes to see by. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, which was, he decided, painted light ochre. A warm colour. An Earth colour. A colour direct from nature.

He lay there for a while trying to recall all the times he had seen this colour, in rocks, in earth, in the swathes of cloth that used to billow in the sunlight when the dyers had left their cloth out to dry. He remembered seeing these colourful fabrics billowing in the wind when he was a child, running in and out of the flapping sails of cloth, chasing his sister, and then being chased off by the dyers, being shooed away before the cloth was dirtied.

There had been so many crafts-people at the palace in those days, using the gifts that the Earth had given them, in return for their reverence and protection. The relationship between the Fey peoples and the natural world was a glorious and loving one, symbiotic almost. He could remember the feeling of life and fecundity that would pour into them from all they touched, saw, tasted.

He missed that feeling. It had been all but stifled over the past few millennia of the human's existence. If the tide could ever be turned, and all that is left of the wild and beautiful places of the Earth could be saved – will the Mother finally chastise the wayward children who now deny her the respect she deserves and refuse to make amends? He could not do it. He did not know if forgiveness resided in his heart at all now. Or if it ever had.

But…what of his sister? Would he be able to forgive her? Or she forgive him?

The vision of his father's last moments burst into his mind, suddenly and forcefully. He felt sick and dizzy, and the hand that had held the sword which killed him tingled and shook. He closed his eyes and clenched his hand into a tight fist, trying to make the sensation go away. So this is what guilt felt like? It was an awfully long time since he had experienced it.

What was wrong with him? He hadn't really 'felt' anything for so long, that the experience of any emotion besides hate and rage left him in a state of shock.

The voices of the Elves in the next room suddenly became audible as the door was opened and someone entered the corridor, the sounds dragging him forcibly back to the here and now. Footsteps neared his door and stopped outside. A gentle, slightly hesitant knock sounded.

He sat up, set his feet on the floor, and pulled his long white-blonde hair away from his face, tucking some stray locks of it behind his pointed ears. He took a deep, shaky breath and sighed, trying to be calm once more. 'Enter,' he answered to the person waiting outside his door.

The Mage entered, bowing respectfully to the Prince. 'Sire, enough time has elapsed for me to conclude that Naeva should recover from her wound. It will still be some time before she has strength enough for you to question her.' Nuada nodded his approval. 'And my sister?' he asked quietly. 'There has been no significant change as yet, but she does appear to be a little more responsive than before.' Nuada simply nodded once more, unable to say more.

'When you are ready to eat, some breakfast has been prepared, meagre though it is.' Nuada was grateful. He felt a little weak. "Probably from all the dying and being brought back I did yesterday," he thought to himself, fighting back the urge to laugh at the sheer lunacy of how that had sounded in his head. 'Thank you, Ecris' he replied instead. 'I am sure it will more than suffice.' The Mage bowed again, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Nuada rose to his feet, deciding to go above for some air. He left his room, carrying his spear. He went nowhere without it.

Making his way down the corridor, he passed an open doorway, the room beyond lit by a flickering torch. Inside he could see the figure of someone lying on a bed. This is where they had laid Nuala. But he did not go in. He could not. Not now. He took a deep breath – then continued along the corridor.

At length, he reached one of the great halls, his footfalls echoing as he walked. A very dim light emanated from the walls. It was daytime above. When the palace was alive with its myriad of inhabitants, these walls would have radiated a warm glowing light, a reflection of the sunlight above, a form of glamour used by the Elves in the dark places underground. Upon a moonlit night, a gentle silver light would emanate, again a magical reflection of what happened above ground. Torches were lit during the hours of darkness when no moon shone in the starlit sky.

He made his way to the entrance and stepped out into the daylight. This was not the grand, main entrance to Bethmoora. This was one of the many smaller portals that were used everyday by the inhabitants. The main entrance was proud and showy. This is the first thing that welcome, and not so welcome visitors would see, the great stone giant rising from the earth to reveal a doorway in its belly. The not so welcome visitors would either be frightened, or possibly flung away, by the giant's great fists. In the Unseen Realm, fortifications did not need to be boring to function.

He walked along the winding path that overlooked the sea. It was very overgrown. Which was not surprising. Few visitors ever came to Bethmoora now, only those who wanted to see where the once great 'mythical' palace had been, to see if it truly were real. If they had gone through the little doorways in the earth and rocks, they would have been disappointed. Another glamour, still existing, still working, would make the corridor seem like nothing more than the mouth of a small cave, and in just a few paces, they would come to a dead end, faced with just bare rock. Only a true Bethmooran Elf could now cross the barrier unaided. And, until now, Nuada had never returned.

This was something he now had great cause to regret.

He did not know that the Golden Army remained here all this time. He knew that his father had made the goblins move it to different locations from time to time, but never knew where. He had managed to hide that from Nuala, the only way, he knew, that Nuada could find out. The problem was, that wherever they tried to hide the army, the surrounding area would become infertile, all goodness dying due to the dark magic with which it was imbued. So Balor believed Bethmoora was the only place they could shield the upper world from its curse, the army was moved back to the chamber, and when the great palace faded and died and it came time to leave, the army was to be locked away with the shame of its wielder – and the dying hopes of his people.

Nuada finally came to the place he had hoped still existed, a small waterfall of cool, clear, fresh water fed by a spring, with a pool beneath. Water ran from this pool in a rivulet, down the side of the hill and eventually ran over the edge of a small cliff, and down onto the rocks and shingle below, where it met the sea.

He cupped his hand to catch some of the water as it cascaded down into the pool. He tasted it. Not too bad at all. This rocky terrain had made the land unusable for the crops of the humans, so none of their chemicals had been used on it. This was as pure as it got nowadays.

He lay down his spear, and began to undress, removing his black shirt, boots and finally trousers. He stepped into the pool of water, the cold making his feet and calves tingle. It was invigorating, a welcome sensation to a body that had felt so numb before. He stepped under the waterfall, closing his eyes as the cold water flowed over his face and body, rivulets of tingly coolness enlivening his skin wherever it touched. He let it wash over him for some time before opening his eyes.

Carefully, he removed the binding from around his chest that had kept his dressing in place. Removing the pad he could feel the wound was healing well, and all it required was to let the water do its work and wash away the blood that had dried there. When he was finally satisfied that he was at last rid of the evidence of his last battle, he stepped out of the water. He stood for a while, allowing the breeze to dry his skin, then began to dress once more. The red silk sash he usually wore was still in his room – along with the decorated gold disk that was held in place by it – the Seal of the Bethmoora clan.

For this one brief moment he wanted to be Nuada…just Nuada, a warrior of the Elves. He would wear the seal again, once he was back inside, and probably almost every day for the rest of his long, long life. But now, after all that had happened, he simply needed to just…be himself. Prince Nuada would return soon enough.

It was still very early, but he could tell it was going to be a fine day. Picking up his spear, he began to make his way further down the path, which continued on from the pool and meandered down till it reached the shore. He would stop every now and then to take in his surroundings, each twist and turn changing the view subtly. He would try to picture it as he had last seen it, so long ago, each change, large or small, registered carefully, his instincts always to know exactly the lie of the terrain. He did not want any unexpected visitors to appear on a trackway or from behind a rock fall that he hadn't noticed.

Even though he was hidden from human eyes by the glamour utilized by all Fey folk, he now knew there was a threat from inside his own realm – an Elf like him, not one of his subjects – but his own kin. His uncle.

Bres, younger brother of his father. Though they had shared the same father, they were born of different mothers. Nuada's grandfather, Buaran, had taken two wives, as was sometimes the case far back in time, each from a different clan. Nuada's grandmother was herself of the Bethmoora clan, but the other was of the clan of Bandonnan, over the sea on what were now the islands off the west coast of Scotland.

As he walked, he contemplated what the full impact of his uncle's apparent survival would be upon himself and his people. How had he managed to keep himself hidden for so long?

Whilst in exile, Nuada had managed to stay in the background for centuries, but the Fey knew he was still there. He would make an appearance once-in-a-while, at some market or meeting, or just passing through an area in which they clung to existence, never interfering in their day-to-day affairs, never doing anything that would be deemed a contravention of the truce his father had made, no matter how sickened he was at the plight of his people. He would just stand in the shadows and listen to their anguished talk of who had fallen to the human onslaught, and their hopes that one day the King would decide he had had his fill of a peace that still managed to drive his people to the brink of extinction.

Nuada's heart and soul had smouldered with a rage he tried to keep in check for all these many centuries but as time went on, it grew and grew until it had pushed him to the point of madness. To the point where he decided that he had to find the missing crown piece so that he could unleash the Golden Army.

All he had ever been able to do was help in basic, practical ways. To assist some ragged group of Fey to move to safer ground when their present home was threatened, or to reunite a family who had been split up during a hurried flight from danger, or perhaps even to fight and kill humans who were of immediate threat to the lives of the people he was trying to protect at that moment. He was careful never to be the initial antagonist. No, he never started a fight with the humans – but he ALWAYS finished it. He had come to relish these skirmishes, a short, brutal, but for him sweet release of at least a small portion of the rage that was beginning to consume him. As time crawled on through achingly slow years, he craved the opportunity to use his spear, or sword, or dagger, to feel one or the other of them slice through flesh and bone, to let the Earth taste the small morsel of revenge he had claimed in her name, as the human's blood soaked forest floor or trickled through cracks in concrete.

'Enough!' he told himself. Enough.

Dwelling on his own past, his own madness, would benefit no-one, least of all himself. That rage was still there, deep inside. But it was changed. Something had changed in him. The madness that had overtaken him was no-more. Perhaps it was his fall into darkness, or being pulled back to this existence, but somehow he had been cleansed, healed of this fever.

It had grown in him like a tumour, and had, he saw now, destroyed him. And his father and sister. It could also have meant the final destruction of his people. For that he did not know if he could ever forgive himself. But his mind was now clear. He would not allow his own feelings about what the humans did, or of his father's inaction, to cloud his mind again. And neither would he allow an internal power struggle to jeopardize their survival.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down on a rock, resting his elbows on his knees and turning his short spear-blade slowly back and forth between the palms of his hands, the light of the early morning sun glinting brightly on the silver tip.

His only consideration at that moment had to be his uncle. He had remained hidden from those in his world for thousands of years. Had no-one set eyes on him in all that time? His eyes narrowed as he thought about the likelihood of this. No. He had to have been recognized at some time. Everyone in their world would have recognized him. That scar would literally have marked him out for who he was – they all knew how he got it – at the hands of his brother, Balor.

The brothers had been raised each at the court of their own mother, and they both knew it was Balor who would become king should their father die, as he was the first-born son. But Bres was unhappy. Though he knew that if Balor died, it would be he who would be king, he knew this was most unlikely. But the idea of Kingship appealed to Bres, and, as the centuries rolled by, his desire for the throne became all consuming.

Finally, the day came when their father died, in a battle against the humans. If he was to take the throne, he had to act now.

So, as the day arrived for the new king to take his place, to be formally accepted by the people, he made his move. In front of everyone, he challenged Balor for the right, drew his sword and lashed out at his brother. A fierce battle ensued. Both brothers had been trained by the best weapons-masters of each clan, and both had bettered their teachers in the end, as was expected of them. They were each to be the best warrior of their respective clans, bearing the rank and title of Silverlance, just as Nuada did now.

Many wounds were sustained by each of them, but, at the last, Balor's skill was the greater, and he served Bres a wound that finally brought him down. As he fell, his mother, who loved her son with all her heart, rushed forward and begged Balor to spare him. Balor was so moved by her pleas that he agreed to let her tend him. But Bres was shamed by his mother's actions. He lashed out at her too, slashing her face terribly. Balor was so disgusted by this last insult and injury that he cut Bres from forehead to jawbone, saying that all who saw the mark would recognize him and remember what he had done to deserve it, and that once healed he was to be banished from their realm, never to return. He and his mother were taken back to their clan home to be healed. But as fate would have it, the humans attacked their clan soon after, slaughtering all there.

Or so it had been thought. For here, it would seem, was Bres, very much alive.

Nuada felt a chill inside. He got to his feet again, and seeing a dog running along the narrow strip of sand above the high tide line, he knew he would soon be disturbed by a human's presence. He briefly scanned the area once more, then returned the way he had come, past the pool, and back into the depths of Bethmoora.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Time To Come Home**

He returned once more to his room. Someone had been there before him, as a clean cover had been laid across his bed, the fire lit, and a fresh torch flickered in the sconce. None of his possessions had been moved. Wait. There was a new addition to his few belongings – a silver comb. He picked it up and noted the fine detail of the decoration that covered it. Elvish silversmithing for sure. It had been a long while since he had owned an everyday object as fine as this. Apart from the few pieces of formal clothing he wore when necessary, and of course, the beautifully crafted weapons he would never be without, the rest of his belongings were basic and purely functional. He never 'owned' any of these for long, either. If he came across a Fey in need, he would give them what he had. He could replace it in time.

Laying the comb down, he set about tidying himself up a bit. He had to become Prince Nuada again, with all the formality that entailed.

He made sure his clothing and footwear were as presentable as possible under the circumstances. He took his black boots and trousers out of his pack and undressed again, swapping them for the brown boots and trousers he still wore. With black shirt back on, he sought the long black over-jacket and armour from his pack, putting on the chest, shoulder and wrist guards, complete with back-mounted sheath for sword and spear.

Happy with this, he picked up the new comb and ran it through his long, slightly damp hair. This done, there was only one thing left to complete the effect. Wrapping his red silk sash around his waist, he secured the gold disk bearing the Seal of Bethmoora. Returning his shortened spear to its sheath on his back, he headed for the door.

Prince Nuada was back once more.

On entering the room next door, he found a scene only slightly changed from the day before. The human was still unconscious but was now attended by another of the Elves, Sciana having gone to another room to rest. It had been decided that each of the party would take turns to rest, while the others either tended the woman or the Princess, assisted the Mage, or went about the daily chores necessary to make their stay bearable.

The Mage was sitting at the other side of the room, talking quietly with Oacma. As soon as Nuada stepped through the door, everyone stood in unison and bowed to him. He nodded his acknowledgement and with a small movement of his hand, indicated for them to return to whatever they were doing. The Mage and Oacma approached. 'Sire,' they both said together.

Nuada regarded the human, lying still and silent. She was exceedingly pale, but her breathing was a little deeper and more regular. 'What is your opinion of her condition?' he asked the Mage. 'She is weak, Sire, but her strength is returning slowly. She should wake soon, though probably not for long. I expect her to be in and out of consciousness for a few hours yet.'

Nuada nodded. He would have to be patient.

'Sire, I expect you have much to discuss under these circumstances, but I think perhaps you should eat first,' the Mage advised. 'It would not do for our new leader to become ill through lack of food within the first few hours of rule.' Indeed, he had to admit this was very true. He allowed the Mage and Oacma to lead him to another room in which a kitchen had been set up. The smell of bread and some kind of broth greeted them.

He seated himself at a table and a bowl of the broth was brought to him, with a spoon and bread on a platter. He thanked the Elf who served him and indicated for the Mage and Oacma to join him. They too took seats at the table, but as they had already eaten, they bade him finish his food before beginning their discussion. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until then, but did not rush. There wasn't really that much, the rations were, as Ecris had said, rather meagre, but it was enough and he was grateful for it.

As his empty bowl was taken away, three cups filled with a warming drink appeared on the table. He gestured for his companions to drink too. They were standing on formality and were waiting for the Prince to start his first. The due respect shown to him since his…return…had been noted, and Nuada felt a little more at ease than he had thought possible after the tumultuous shock his people had endured – at his hands. Having their King's life taken by his own son in front of their eyes was, to put it very mildly, disturbing.

And yet, here were loyal members of Balor's court, taking the Prince back into their lives, after his long exile – and they were actually pleased to see him. At the time of his return, he had expected – demanded – the people to follow him, but now that the weight of all that rage and unmitigated hatred had been at least partially lifted, he realized that they could have simply rejected him. But that, of course, depended on how they had truly felt about their current state, on whether, deep down, underneath the loyalty they undoubtedly felt for their King, they were disenchanted, disheartened and ready for someone to lead them out of their desperate plight, or at least attempt to.

Nuada sipped his drink, staring at the tabletop as he thought about this. The others waited patiently for him to speak. When they had last seen him he was full of passion, a man who knew exactly what he wanted and unwavering in his determination to complete his task. He knew he had to be that decisive again now. It was time to truly lead his people.

He finished the last of his drink, put the cup down and began the next chapter of the story of his people – hoping it would not be the last.

'Ecris, Oacma, I thank you for your patience, but it is time we began the task of saving our people.' They looked at him with expectant gazes, the seed of new hope planted in their hearts. 'Come,' said Nuada rising to his feet. 'Let us walk. I wish to look upon these halls again in more detail. There is much to do, but we need somewhere suitable to become our new home, and most likely the last bastion we shall have. It served us well in the past – let us make certain it shall serve as well for our future.'

With that, the three of them left the room with the eyes of the Elves still there following them out.

Bethmoora was a truly magnificent palace at the height of its occupancy. A deep chasm of a cave, it started life as a natural formation, but thanks to the skill and craftsmanship of the Cave Trolls, it was enhanced and extended, lovingly carved and polished, until eventually transformed into a place of rugged strength and almost ethereal beauty and majesty.

On entering through the formidable giant's entrance, you were guided through a tunnel which led out into the main cavernous space. There were walkways at different levels all the way from the cave floor far below, to the dizzying heights above. These were connected via more walkways to halls and corridors. And the chamber in which the Golden Army was housed.

Nuada decided to start here. Where better to embark on a new beginning than the place in which your past life ended?

They entered the chamber, their footsteps echoing off the carved stone of the walls, floor and ceiling. It had become a tomb, but Nuada wanted it to become a focus for life. They stood on the dais in front of the grand entrance which would have been used by the King and court when first built. There were less grand entrances, including ones through which the Golden Army would have marched on their way to do the King's bidding.

The dagger that Nuala had dropped at the fateful moment of her – their – death, still lay here. Nuada slowly reached down to pick it up. Just a hair's breadth away, he stopped, pulling his fingers back, almost afraid to touch it, then, forcing himself, he took it in his hand. He stood straight, staring at the metal blade as if it were the one thing in the world he had never wanted to see again. As the image of Nuala's face haunted his vision once more, he thought about the blade he held at that same moment. Looking over to where he had fallen, he could see his own dagger nearby. He left the platform, and walked over to where the blade lay.

He picked up this second dagger. In his hands lay the twin blades that had destroyed his chances of wreaking a bloody revenge on the world of the humans. He wanted to destroy them, too – but instead, he pushed them under his sash, one either side. A reminder to himself never to take the loyalty of those around him for granted. He knew he had to prove himself to his people. He would try his best to find out what it was they wanted of him, not him demand loyalty of them.

This was vastly different to how he had felt before, but things had changed, his options were few, and he had to work within the confines allowed by them. He was joined by the Mage and Oacma, the latter noticing something else on the black stone floor – what appeared to be a cooled puddle of once molten gold. It didn't take much for Nuada to figure it out. The Golden Army stood lifeless in the chamber. If the demon had wanted to command them he would have taken the crown, but he knew the red one had not intended this.

'They have destroyed the crown,' he told the two. 'The army can never be used again.' 'In time I will have to speak with the goblin,' he said after a moments thought. 'There are things I need to know. Perhaps they could be moved again, or made use of in another way.'

At that moment, one of the Elves tending the Princess entered the chamber and crossed to where they were standing. He bowed to the Prince, then proceeded to give the message he carried. 'Sire, Ecris, the Princess has awoken. She is disorientated, but seems well.'

Nuada's heart seemed to miss a beat. She was awake. But he still could not feel her. There was a tightness in the pit of his stomach. What did this mean?

'Oacma, would you go to the Princess and see if she needs me to attend her? I trust the judgement of our friend here. If she is well enough to wait for a short while, I shall attend her shortly.' said Ecris. Oacma turned to Nuada 'If it pleases you, Sire? I shall go to her at once.' And after a small nod from the Prince, bowing respectfully, he left.

Now they were alone, Nuada could speak to his old tutor more openly. He still felt the need to be cautious with others. 'Ecris, I have been considering the apparent survival of my uncle. How can it be that he has remained hidden for so long? Surely he must have been sighted by someone of the Fey at some time?' 'Indeed, Sire…' 'Nuada, please my friend,' Nuada instructed with a small smile. 'I have thought this too. But we have never received any information that could have alerted us to this fact.'

'This is what concerns me,' said Nuada. 'I have come to the only logical conclusion – he has been recognized, and to stop word from ever reaching the King's ears, the party concerned must have been silenced. Killed. And there is no telling how many times this has happened.' Ecris nodded thoughtfully. 'I fear you are correct in this.'

Nuada's expression darkened. 'There is also another possibility in this matter. He has managed to gather support for his claim within this realm.' Ecris looked to Nuada, obviously horrified at the prospect, but not surprised. 'I, myself have overheard the murmur of discontented voices, even within the Court, though love for the King and loyalty to his wishes was undisputed.'

"Love for the King". These words echoed in Nuada's mind. He had loved his father, though this was probably not overly clear to those who overheard their many disagreements when he still resided at the Court, some of which had been so heated it would seem that they may even spill over into violence. He had himself seen no other way to help his people than to overthrow his father's rule, though he had desperately hoped it could happen in a less brutal way than it had.

But that was the way of it. He truly felt he had no other choice. The King's weakness had caused the destruction of his people to go on unimpeded. And if even the court had become discontented by his father's inaction, then in all likelihood Bres will have set his sights on the throne once more. 'By now, Bres must have heard what happened between us,' Nuada said, a decision made. 'You must get word back to the court. They must all return to Bethmoora immediately. If Bres truly means to make an attempt on the throne, then he is most likely to begin by wiping out the powerbase that is still loyal to the Bethmooran bloodline. They are all in the greatest of danger.'

'You are right, Nuada,' said Ecris. Fear for his friends was growing rapidly within him. 'I shall send a message at once!' He bowed to the Prince, and was about to turn to leave, but Nuada caught his arm. Ecris.' He looked concernedly at his old friend. 'You, too are in grave danger. You were my father's advisor, and you are now to be mine. You are also my friend. Do not go above ground alone.'

The Mage laid his hand on Nuada's shoulder and smiled, grateful to be confirmed as friend and for the genuine concern that he held for him. He nodded and hurried off to request the message be taken at all speed, before another catastrophe befell them.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

What Is Love?

Nuada stood alone in the chamber. He began to contemplate his life, all the events that had brought him to this moment.

He had grown up in a different world to the one he now found himself in. Beautiful, verdant, surrounded by the raw beauty and absolute majesty of an Earth so filled with life and power that he could actually feel it, deep inside. It enveloped him, his connection with it so strong he could almost lose himself in it if he had a mind to. But, as he grew, he could feel subtle changes. Through this connection he was able to sense this power being disrupted. And when he asked his father what was causing these changes, he was given one word in answer – humans.

Balor had spat this word out at him like it was a bitter poison in his mouth. Year by year, Nuada was told it was the humans who caused all the ills that beset the Fey, who were silencing the Gods and spirits of the forest, river, mountain and sea, one by one. And it was the humans who had robbed Nuada and Nuala of their mother's nurturing love.

They had slaughtered her and her friends as if they were nothing, no more than a prized kill at the end of a hunt.

Their mother, Adsula, and three of her friends had been out for a walk in the forest, two guards having been sent out with them. They were just about to return to the palace, when they were ambushed by a large group of human hunters. Though greatly outnumbered, the two guards had battled in vain to protect their charges. They took many, many terrible blows, but also killed many of the humans and they kept on fighting so long as the Queen was still alive. One eventually succumbed to his injuries, but the other continued on, though gravely wounded. Two of the women died quickly at the hands of the hunters as they tried desperately to escape, but one just managed to get away, bleeding heavily. She was able to raise the alarm and have reinforcements sent out, but they were too late to save the remaining guard, who died seconds before they could get to him. There was only one human left when he fell.

This man had taken his 'revenge' on the Elves for killing his friends, by pushing the Queen up against a tree and skewering her with his hunting spear so she was pinned against it. This is when the rescue party had arrived. One of the warriors took the human's head clean off with one blow, but it was too late to save the Queen. She managed to say her last few words to the warriors before her life drained from her and she became stone around the hunter's spear.

The twins were only young when their mother died. They had no real memories of her at all. And this pained both them and their father. The rage Balor carried from that day on was terrible to behold. But it was her last words which caused Balor the most anguish and anger. As her final moments came ever closer, unable to speak in anything other than a whisper, one of the warriors leaned close to her and heard her last words before she passed into darkness.

He stood before Balor, who sat so still and quiet that it was almost as if he too had become stone, staring ahead of him in a shock. 'What did she say?' he asked, his voice barely audible. 'Sire,' the warrior began, his face filled with sorrow and regret, 'she said "They are as one. You must treat them the same. He is more fragile than you think."

Balor knew exactly what she meant. But he was in no mind to be tolerant of a son who could be considered as anything other than what he himself was – hard and unyielding in any circumstance. There was no room for compassion or any such emotion in a warrior's heart. His son would be the same as he. He would make sure of it….

The years passed, and Balor insisted Nuada be taken to the weapons master, far earlier than anyone would usually consider it beneficial. He was to become the mirror image of his father. To be anything other than what his mother had deemed him to be, which was a future King with the potential to be kind as well as fierce, compassionate as well as an accomplished warrior.

Balor's rage was an overpowering force. And Nuada saw his father's anger and took it as his own. Each time Balor stormed through the palace, bloodied by a battle with the humans, Nuada would run off to his weapons-master and demand another session of training. He would work harder and harder to become the warrior his father was, so that he could stride out with him, to be at his side in battle, to make him proud.

To be noticed.

For it seemed that unless he had a weapon in his hand, or had soundly beaten an opponent in training, his father hardly noticed him at all. But Nuala, beautiful, calm Nuala always had a place near her father. She would be rewarded with the smiles and praise for just…being herself. She was so like their mother…

But for Nuada, it seemed all attention had to be earned with blood and sweat. But tears were not allowed. Not from him. He craved his father's unconditional love, but felt it was always conditional, always depending on what he could do. His heart became hardened to any emotions other than hate and anger. Except where Nuala was concerned. There was always love for her. How could he feel anything but love for his twin sister. She was part of him. They were part of each other.

As they grew older, as they matured, the love began to change too. For him at least. Nuada began to feel jealous of his father's attention being solely for Nuala. At least that is how it started. Slowly the jealousy had become twisted, the anger he felt all the time now causing it to become almost like the jealousy of a man having to watch his lover being caressed by the hands of another man.

And Balor had noticed this. He wove a shield around Nuala, to try to keep Nuada out of her heart and mind. But this just served as another rejection in Nuada's feverish rage. He turned all the rage and hatred that had taken his heart and laid it at the door of the only target he was able to fight – the humans. Ultimately, it was his father who had brought him to this place. When, after all his ranting about the humans, he had made that fateful truce, it felt to Nuada like another rejection of him. He wanted to fight the humans for his father, to to avenge his mother's death, to destroy them, so his father would finally show pride in his son. But he denied him the chance. He denied his son once more. Once too often.

He left the world he had known to go out into the world of men, so he could make them suffer for all he felt inside. They deserved most of what he had wanted to do to them. But now, he realized bitterly, some of that rage and hatred should have been laid at the door of his father too. The love and hate he had felt in almost equal measure for Balor had caused all the woes that had befallen him. It had taken all that he had ever loved. It took away his sister, even before she died.

Where was she? Where was the part of her that had always been with him?

Nuala. He closed his eyes and pictured her in his mind, standing under an apple tree that was festooned in its spring-time splendour of delicate, pink-tinged blossom. She wore a dress of blue silk, and a smile filled with joy at the return of spring, her favourite season. Would he see her smile again?

It was time.

He walked slowly from the chamber, stopping only once to look back at the vast expanse of darkness wherein lay the Golden Army, now in its eternal sleep. He had plans for this dead space.

He would fill it with life.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Reunion Of Common Spirit**

Nuada reached the door of the room he had dreaded having to enter.

The scent of flowers pervaded the air here. He stepped into the torch-lit room, and slowly approached the bed where his sister lay, sleeping once more. He looked down and studied her face, properly this time, and was thankful that the expression she wore was one of peace. He moved his hand, wanting to gently run his fingers down her cheek, but decided against it. Silver tears welled in his eyes once more and he tried to blink them away, but one fell, heedless, to his own cheek and traced the contours of his face until it fell soundlessly onto Nuala's hand.

The sensation of her brother's tear on her skin woke her once more. Two pairs of golden eyes met, each of them reflecting the flickering torchlight …and the confusion and apprehension felt by their owners.

'Nuada?!' Nuala sat bolt upright with the shock of seeing her brother beside her – and shock at the fact that she could not hear or feel him in her mind anymore. Nuada did not know quite what to do or say. He felt strange. Here was the sister he had loved, so very deeply, yet it felt somehow different. And Nuala's face told him that she was feeing the same onslaught of emotions that he had felt himself on realizing that things between them were vastly different than before.

She sat staring at him for a few moments. 'I cannot…hear you.' She said simply. 'What has happened? Why can I not hear you?' 'I do not know, sister,' he replied, his voice quiet and tinged with a hint of forlornness. Nuala had already gone through the process of remembering her – their last moments, and those of their father, and her eyes betrayed this fact. She looked upon her brother with a sorrowful gaze. And it broke his heart.

He turned away from her, the guilt he had felt earlier re-surfacing, but also the feeling of betrayal at her last actions. He could not bear to look into the eyes of the one person he had never truly wanted to hurt, yet had managed to all the same. The same person who had been prepared to take his life as well as her own.

Nuala watched him closely. Though she could not sense him as she had, she could not fail to see that something within him was changed. She could see more in his eyes now than she had ever been able to before. There was a vulnerability that she did not recognize – wait. Yes, she had seen this in his eyes, long ago, when they were but children, young and innocent. It was almost as if the long years of his growing rage and hatred had never existed.

She slowly reached out to him, and gently took his hand. And this is when she could finally read him, in the same way that she absorbed the thoughts and emotions of anyone else she touched. The empathic ability she had been born with was still with her. She felt the usual surge of emotion and turmoil that would have poured from her brother in the past…there was sorrow, guilt...and even a little fear. However, she could also sense all the remorse he felt for what had happened between himself and his father, and between them too, including her rejection of him.

But she felt the complete lack of one feeling within him, the one her father had tried to protect her from.

Lust.

The love was there, as deep as ever, but it was the love of a brother for his sister, nothing more, just as it had been before the hate and rage had twisted his mind. The memories of those darker moments of passionate longing were still there, but the feelings that had once accompanied them were no more.

'Do not fear, brother,' she said quietly, 'all is well between us...if that is what you wish?' Nuada turned back to gaze upon the face of his beloved sister…and he could see understanding, regret and love instead of the hatred he had so feared seeing in those eyes. With her free hand, Nuala swept the bed cover off and moved to stand, but her legs were a little weak and she almost fell, Nuada catching her just in time and lowering her back to sit upon the bed.

'Sit with me for a while,' said Nuala gently, 'we must talk.' He sat down beside her, almost nervously. 'Nuala…my sister,' he said, his throat tight with emotion. 'I am so sorry…I…' He closed his eyes tight shut. He could say no more than that. His voice had escaped him completely. Nuala reached over and gently pulled him towards her, put her arms around him and held him tightly, and at this, he reached round and held her too, just as they had done so often as children, back when the world was more simple for them to understand.

They sat for some time in each others arms, neither of them wanting to end this moment of tender closeness that had eluded them for centuries untold. Eventually they slowly pulled away and sat gazing at each other as if seeing one another for the first time. And it was then that a sudden thought came to Nuada.

He stood up and walked over to the fire, his back to his sister. He appeared to be staring down into the flames. After a few moments, he spoke. 'How do you feel, sister?' he asked, a strange tone to his voice. 'I am well, brother. Why do you ask so? Is something wrong?' she replied, apprehensively. 'I just wondered if you felt anything odd just now. Any…pain?' 'What do you mean? Why should I feel…?' Nuala's eyes widened as Nuada turned again to face her, a strange expression on his face, his hand raised before him – and blood pouring from a gash at the side of it. He had used the tip of one of the daggers to slice the flesh at the base of his thumb.

Nuala gasped at the sight. She had felt nothing. No pain, no sensation at all. She looked down at her hand – her pale, slender, uninjured hand – then back to her brother, who looked as shocked as she knew she must herself. He walked over to her once more and sat beside her. She took his cut hand in hers, took the edge of her bed sheet and held it to the wound, applying pressure on it for a minute or so until it stopped bleeding freely. It would be healed fully within a day or two.

Nuada grabbed his sister in a huge embrace that caught her unawares, though now they were close, she could understand why he behaved so. In all the time they were in close proximity in the past, if he had been injured in training or battle, she would receive the same wound, and it had always been a source of distress for him. He was the best warrior of the Bethmoora clan, but no matter how good you are, you are liable to be wounded at some time.

'You will never be hurt like that again!' he said, the joy and relief in him overwhelming to Nuala after having only received so much negative emotion from him in the past. 'And neither will you!' she said, the sorrow of that moment in the chamber weighing just as heavily on her own heart as it did on her brother's.

The sound of raised voices somewhere near drew them back to where Nuada's attentions now had to lie.

'I must go to see what has happened,' he said quietly, pulling gently away from her embrace. 'I will send someone to attend you as soon as possible.' 'There is no rush,' Nuala replied with a gentle smile. 'I am still very tired, which is surprising considering how long I seem to have slept.' Nuada leaned forward and gently kissed Nuala's cheek. 'I will return as soon as I can.'

With that, he stood, bowing low to the one person by whom he felt totally humbled, and walked from the room...


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Life Changing Decisions

Entering the corridor, he realized the voices were coming from the make-shift sick room, so that is where he headed.

Ecris was here. He was leaning over the human, Naeva, whose eyes were wide open and unblinking. He turned to Nuada as he entered, giving him a quick nod, but was obviously too involved to be more respectful.

'What is wrong,' Nuada asked. 'She was conscious, Sire, and able to speak. She wanted me to allow you to see her, but it appears that something is causing her to relapse. It has come on very suddenly. I cannot understand it.' He pulled down her lower eyelids and scowled, then he opened her mouth and sniffed her breath. 'It cannot be!' he said, a look of horror on his face. 'There is no way…no-one…'

'Ecris, what is it?' Nuada demanded. The Mage looked at him, disbelief and horror mingled. 'Sire. She has been poisoned.' Nuada's blood ran cold. There is only one way that could be possible… His eyes flashed darkly. 'WHO?!' he demanded. 'Ecris was shaking his head. 'I do not know. No-one has been left alone with her but myself, and….' His words trailed off as he remembered.

Nuada saw the look on his face and followed the Mage's disbelieving gaze to the only other person in the room - who was now standing close to him with dagger in hand. It was one of the Elves who had been helping him with his work.

He didn't hear the rasp of metal as Nuada unsheathed his spear blade, or see it when it extended to full length at his will as he ran across the room. He did, however feel it when the pommel of the spear connected with his jaw, sending him spinning back against the wall, dropping the blade as he fell. And as he lay sprawled on his back, shaking his head to clear his blurred vision, he did finally feel the silver spear tip that pressed sharply into his throat as Nuada stood over him, glaring down with red amber eyes that blazed with fury. The Elf's eyes were wide, pale with fear.

'Can you do anything for her?' Nuada asked the Mage, not taking his eyes off his prisoner. 'I need to be absolutely sure that I am correct as to which poison was used.' Nuada applied a subtle increase in pressure upon the spear tip. 'Tell him!' he demanded. He stared down at the prone Elf. He had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The longer he looked at him… 'There is something not right here,' he said, eyes narrowed.

The Elf swallowed hard, causing the blade to nick his skin. A bead of blood welled and a tiny trickle ran down the side of his neck. He lay trembling on the floor as he felt the warmth of it move across his skin. Nuada eased the pressure slightly so he could speak. 'Fuilbrin! It was fuilbrin!' he stammered. The Mage stared at the Elf, a look of disgust on his face. 'I feared as much,' he said. 'Is there not an antidote?' Nuada asked, still glaring at the Elf. 'There is, but I do not have it with me, and there is not enough time to find it. This poison will cause her blood to clot in her veins. She has very little time.'

Nuada was incandescent with rage. 'Is there nothing more you can do?' he asked, still staring down at the prisoner who had robbed him of his only source of information regarding his uncle. Ecris stood and stared at the woman for a moment, then looked up at Nuada, wearing a strange expression. 'Perhaps there is one last possibility…though I do not think you will want me to use it,' he said, a nervous tone to his voice. 'How so?' asked Nuada. This answer was not at all what he would have expected.

'The only other antidote will have a side effect that I fear you will not appreciate or allow,' said the Mage. 'Please, Ecris…Do not be cryptic. What is this side effect?' asked Nuada impatiently. Ecris regarded the Prince with a very serious expression. 'The only other antidote would be another herb – mixed with a little Elf blood.' Nuada frowned. 'The side effect would be…to give her a greatly extended lifespan.'

Nuada was shocked. Now this was something to consider. 'When you say 'greatly extended - by how much? Decades?' He was unsure what to think. Ecris shook his head. 'Centuries,' he said simply. 'Centuries?!' Nuada reeled with the shock at hearing the words. 'Yes, Sire,' said Ecris nodding. 'In a human it will impart far more than the healing an Elf could expect. This is magical healing as old as that we used to bring you back.'

Nuada was stunned. He looked at the woman and stared, letting his guard down for a split second. The prone Elf saw this and made a grab for the dagger he had dropped, almost reaching Nuada's thigh with the blade before the Prince's own had hit the flagstone beneath him as it pierced his throat and exited the back of his neck. Nuada yanked the blade out before the Elf turned to stone around it.

But he did not turn to stone. Instead, the pale-skinned form turned to black slime, which had an iridescent sheen, reminiscent of oil on water. It writhed on the floor for a moment, before shuddering and finally becoming still. 'Shapeshifter!!' Ecris gasped in disbelief. He looked to Nuada. 'You knew something was amiss. How?' 'His eyes,' said Nuada. 'There was something behind those eyes. I have seen it before, but long ago. I could not quite remember…' He was annoyed at himself for not realising soon enough.

He stood for a moment looking down on what had moments before been a body. This was hardly the way he had expected to begin his leadership of their world – by having to kill another Fey. It did not sit well with him, even though he had been given no choice. He held out the spear, shortened it, then slid it back into its sheath.

Turning again to the woman he stared at her in disbelief of the predicament he was now in.

'I can only assume that Bres has moved further forward with his ambitions than could have been foreseen,' he said to Ecris, who stood silently looking from dead shapeshifter, to woman and to Nuada, in total shock. He must have made the decision to act as soon as I sent word to the rest of the Court. He was obviously prepared to die rather than risk giving us any information, and to ensure her silence too.' They both regarded the still staring human.

'Sire – Nuada,' said the Mage. 'Time is short. I am afraid you must make a decision.'


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Pain and Prophecy**

Nuada could not believe the choice he now had before him. There could be far-reaching consequences if the wrong decision were to be made. But for the good of his people, and feeling beholden to the woman for what she had been prepared to do for them – for him – there was really only one choice open to him.

'Do you have what you need?' he asked quietly.

'I do.'

'Then you had better begin,' he said with a heavy sigh. The weight of responsibility had not taken long to manifest itself, it seemed.

He watched as Ecris began to prepare another draught for the woman. The Mage took the herb from his bag, set water over the fire and sprinkled the herb into it. They both stood in silence, waiting for the water to begin to bubble, watching the reflected torchlight shimmer as the surface film began to swirl gently with the heat coming up from below. Eventually, tiny bubbles began to break the surface of the liquid, popping quietly.

'It is ready,' said Ecris finally, removing it from the heat and straining it through a thin mesh of cloth into a cup on the table. He then took a small, sharp knife from his bag and moved to make a cut across his arm, but Nuada put his hand out to stop him. 'No, Ecris. If it emerges that this decision was wrong, then I will be held accountable. So I should bear the mark of it.' He took the knife from Ecris and dragged it across his lower arm, just deep enough for the cut to begin to bleed immediately. The blood trickled into the cup, the contents becoming inky black as the two substances mixed. After a few seconds Ecris pressed a piece of clean cloth over the cut and made Nuada hold it tightly in place before picking up the cup and, yet again, tried to save the woman's life.

'I am sorry, Naeva,' he said kneeling down beside her. 'Another of my foul potions for you to drink. It is bitter but you must take it down.' He lifted her head gently and put the cup to her lips. This time, thankfully, she was aware enough to oblige and drank it, sip by sip until it was gone.

At this moment, Sciana entered the room and stopped dead in her tracks on seeing the scene before her. Completely forgetting who was there, she neglected to bow, but Nuada didn't really care. She stood with her mouth open, trying to make sense of what she saw. Ecris called her to him, causing her to start, but it seemed to bring her to her senses. She looked at the gelatinous 'body' on the floor, unable to believe her eyes, as it slowly dissolved into a watery puddle with a slight fizzing sound.

'There is no time to explain fully,' said Ecris. 'Suffice to say, Naeva has been poisoned and I have given her an antidote – with the Prince's aid. Come and help me. Hold her legs down tightly. Nuada – Sire, you must hold her right arm. I will take the left.' Ecris's tone was urgent, so they did as he asked quickly and without question.

The reason why soon became apparent.

The woman who had been lying so still and silent suddenly took in a huge shuddering breath as her back arched horribly, and she let out a scream that chilled them to the core, even Nuada who was used to hearing the screams of those dying in battle. She writhed in agony, screaming and crying, her hands clenched into fists as pain wracked her body. The immense strength she had suddenly gained was more than they could have estimated, and they had to hold her down with great force as she struggled and sobbed.

'MAKE IT STOP! IT'S BURNING! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!'

She screamed the words over and over again, pleading, sobbing and gasping for breath. It was pitiful to watch, her agonized screams heart-wrenching and almost too much to bear. By now, Sciana was crying too, but she held on as tightly as she could. She didn't want Naeva to come to any more harm.

After what seemed like hours, though was probably less than a quarter of one, her cries began to slowly subside and her struggling lessened by degrees. Eventually she lay still, the initial surge of strength having drained from her. She was again silent, apart from the occasional sob, and tears still escaped her tightly closed eyelids to stream down her face and into her long, brown hair. Ecris finally nodded to Sciana and Nuada, and they each carefully released her limbs. She lay still and quiet for some time before slowly opening her eyes.

But when she did, they were utterly shocked.

Her eyes, which had before been a warm shade of green, so very human, now exhibited a strangely yellow-gold tinge, and her pupils were hugely dilated and glassy as she stared straight ahead, unblinking. Slowly, she turned her head on the tear-stained pillow and stared straight into Nuada's own eyes. He was used to staring down opponents in battle, looking someone straight in the eye until cold terror gripped them and they could no longer stand being held by his ferocious gaze. Yet these eyes..…he felt as if he was being forcibly dragged down into spiralling pools of deep water, almost as if he were leaving his body once more to pass the boundary between life and the darkness. It was as if she were looking deep into his very soul, burning away all that stood between them. He felt dizzy, disorientated and more than a little nauseous.

Ecris was now on his feet and had made his way to Nuada's side, at once horrified and awestruck. He knew exactly what was happening, and though he could tell the Prince was struggling under this intense scrutiny, he made no attempt to intervene…he knew far better than to try. Naeva began to speak. Her voice sounded strangely resonant, like it was coming from deep within the Earth itself and not just from the fragile human form which lay before them.

'You have returned from darkness, Nuada, Prince of the Silverlance, rightful King. But to lead your people from the dark path which lies ahead, you must become the light for them to follow. There is shadow within you, and there is shadow following, close behind. You must face these shadows alone if you are to defeat them, but when you learn to accept the one who can show you the way forward, you will illuminate the dark places and all your people shall be embraced by life and power once more.'

Naeva let out a deep sigh as these last words were spoken and her eyes closed again. This seemed to release Nuada from whatever had held him and he fell forward slightly, gasping for breath, shaking his head to relieve the dizziness he still felt. Ecris put his hand on Nuada's shoulder to make sure he wasn't going to fall, but he recovered fairly quickly.

Naeva's eyes opened again, but this time the bright gold hue had dimmed considerably and they were almost back to their usual warm green. She saw Ecris standing over her and smiled dreamily at her friend, and then saw Nuada, still beside her. She was obviously still under some sort of influence, not really fully aware of her surroundings. She smiled at Nuada this time, and lifted her hand. She touched his cheek with her fingertips and Nuada's eyes widened in shock as they brushed against his skin. 'You are so beautiful,' she whispered. She frowned slightly. '…but there is so much sadness…' Slowly her eyes began to close as her arm fell limp to the bed again, and she gradually drifted into a very deep sleep.

Nuada was in total shock. He had heard of this kind of prophetic revelation being made by one of his own kind when they were close to death or had deliberately sought answers through ancient meditative practices, but he had never actually seen or heard for himself before. But a human?! He stood up and looked at the Mage in total amazement of what had just happened.

'Ecris. How was that possible? Did that truly happen, or have the last few days finally robbed me of my sanity?!' The Mage looked equally stunned, but seemed to have at least a partial answer. 'It was real enough, Sire. I myself have only witnessed one such revelation and it was made by another Mage who had been summoned by your father early in his reign.' 'But she is HUMAN Ecris! How can it be possible for her to do such a thing?'

He was finding it difficult to get his mind to work logically at all now. All manner of thoughts were charging round in his mind, like deranged toothfairies. 'There is only one explanation I can envisage,' began the Mage, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Somewhere in her own ancestry, probably at a time when we were still living in peace with the humans, one of our kind must have taken a human lover…and their union brought forth a child. She must be descended from one of the Elfaneen.'

Nuada knew the Elfaneen had existed, but he had believed, as did most of the Fey, that the humans had probably wiped them out at the start of the wars between the two worlds. There had always been rumours that a small group of them had made a home out in the world somewhere, hidden from both Fey and Human realms, but no-one had ever found definitive proof that they truly lived. But now, it seemed that at least one could possibly have escaped the supposed slaughter. It wouldn't have taken too many generations to suppress the most obvious outward signs of their ancestry, and afterwards, if they had so wished, they would have just simply melted into the human population.

There was just simply too much to take in now. Nuada needed some time alone. He needed to do something to centre his mind, to still the torrent of shock and emotion. And there was only one way he knew he could try to accomplish this. But to go off alone now? He didn't want to leave his friend thinking he had simply shrugged off all that had happened as insignificant. He stood in silence for some time, just staring at the woman who now slept soundly on the bed, not really knowing what he ought to do next.

The Mage was not oblivious to Nuada's present needs. He knew of old that when the Prince needed time to think, to be alone, then only one thing came to mind. 'Sire,' he began. 'I notice you have not had time for any weapons training since your…return. I believe Sciana and I can manage here now, and as we are still awaiting news from the remainder of the Court, I think now would probably be the most convenient time for you to resume your practice regime.'

For the first time in a very long time, a small smile formed on Nuada's lips. It appeared that his old friend really did remember him well. Ecris was going to be one of his strongest assets during his time of leadership. 'Indeed, Wisdom-Keeper,' he answered in overly formal terms, 'I believe you are correct. I shall amend this oversight immediately.' Ecris bowed low to the Prince, and he in turn laid his hand on his heart and gave a slight nodding bow in return, as a gesture of sincere thanks.

Nuada was about to turn to leave, when he heard the human, Naeva, mutter something in her sleep. He stared at her, bemused as he remembered something she had said to him earlier. As he made for the door he frowned slightly and shook his head in bewilderment. 'Beautiful?!' he mumbled to himself incredulously. Ecris caught his words and had to turn away as the Prince left the room, pretending to clear his throat in an attempt to suppress the sudden urge to laugh.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**A Soul In Torment**

Nuada made his way through the many corridors and halls of Bethmoora. He was headed for a particular hall, but he wanted to take in some of the places he remembered on the way.

There were many grand chambers, but also many smaller ones, and all had a vast number of different uses in the past. He wandered through the deserted palace, memories echoing in his mind in response to his echoing footsteps. This place had been so full of life, so many sounds and colours, but now it was so dim and shadowy it was hard to recognize it for what it used to be.

He passed doors which were open and others which were closed… A chamber that had once been home to the council of goblin Smiths, where they would hammer out differences of opinion instead of ingots of blast-heated metal…standing silent now…

A small room which would have been a store for the bunches of drying herbs used by one of the Mages engaged in healing, now home only to memories…

A vast hall used when entertaining visiting clan leaders and their retinues, grand and impressive...now echoing to one set of footsteps instead of hundreds…

There were so many of these now empty spaces, all connected by a warren of walkways, stairways and tunnelled corridors. A wall-hanging or piece of furniture, abandoned at the time of an occupant's departure, would give ghostly impressions that just maybe someone was still creeping in the shadows.

At last he came to the area he knew best. This is where the warriors would congregate, whether training, teaching, or just spending time with their comrades. This part of Bethmoora was probably the place in which Nuada felt most at home.

As he grew up, he would spend more and more time here, working hard, trying to earn even the slightest positive response from his father. The older he became, the more often he would come here, until he was practically a permanent fixture. This is where he could vent some of the frustrations he had concerning his father, the humans – and most confusingly for him – the ones concerning Nuala.

He had always loved his sister very deeply. But the love he felt had intensified as he matured, becoming a physical need for her to be close to him. She was able to calm his fevered mind when no-one else could reach him. He needed this like a drug, his body almost aching with longing for her touch…and over time he had, in essence, fallen for his own sister.

Coming back here now brought back some of the most painful memories Nuada had tried hard to bury. This is the place where Nuala was made fully aware of just how deep her brother's feelings for her had become…

She had been called to the training hall by his weapons-master, who was concerned about the Prince's state of mind. For an entire day Nuada had demanded session after session of training, taking no rest or food at all, his sparring partners having to be carried out, one by one, sometimes in twos or threes, all needing a Mage's attention after a more brutal confrontation than normal.

He was almost tearing himself apart, trying to free himself of the rage and anguish that had built up in him to the point where he could no longer function in any other environment but this. At least he could control a weapon in his hand. He seemed to be losing control of everything else, including his mind…

His weapons-master knew that if he did not stop soon, he would suffer terrible consequences. He had seen it happen before, a young, talented warrior burned out because of some kind of an internal struggle. Not many survived for very long after, simply losing the essence of themselves and fading away to nothingness.

He could do nothing to help now. Nuada had gone just too far, too fast…but Nuala may be able to.

She had arrived as yet another casualty was taken away, limping badly. The worry on her face was plain to see, and the weapons-master was starting to think that maybe she was not strong enough to cope with the onslaught of her brother's present rage. But, she did her best to put his mind at ease, saying that she was here to help, and she would be alright…her brother would never hurt her, no matter what.

As such, as she entered the hall, the remaining occupants left the twins alone.

Nuada was pacing around the room like a caged animal looking for a means of escaping his prison. She had never seen him this bad before. He suddenly took one of the throwing spears that were propped against one of the walls and threw it, with a load roar of sheer rage that made her jump in fright. The sweat glistened on his shoulders as he launched the shaft with such violence that it actually penetrated the dark stone of the wall and stuck there as if it had been merely one of the wooden targets…or soft flesh.

She gently called his name, but he seemed not to hear her at all. She very slowly moved towards him, telling him that it was all going to be alright, that she was here to help him, keeping her voice as soothing and calm as she could manage to through her growing fear. Again, she called to him softly, but when he finally turned to face her, she stepped back aghast. Never before had she been confronted with a gaze that so frightened her.

The eyes that met hers were not the eyes of her beloved brother – they were the eyes of a hungry predator, wild and ferocious. She could feel the pressure of his un-vented emotions burning him up, consuming him. It poured from him like blood from a wide open wound

She whispered to him in his mind, telling him she loved him and needed him to be calm, to let go of the rage and to let her help him. But he could not hear her words for the thundering roar of utter turmoil that threatened to push his mind over the brink from which it could never return. All he could do was open his mind to her fully, searing her own mind with all that was tearing at his soul.

Everything.

When she finally felt the true depth of his feelings for her, the true pain he was in, she was shocked and too terrified to look any deeper. She turned to leave, not knowing what to do. But before she had taken a full step, he was there beside her, seeming to tower over her like a predator about to take the final bite of the throat…

He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him again, spinning her round roughly. She tried to pull away, but he pushed her backwards against the wall, almost knocking the wind out of her. His hands gripped her upper arms tightly as he pressed her hard against the cold stone. His eyes were the deepest red amber as he stared at her, through her, his breathing shaky and eratic, and his whole body tight as an over-wound spring, beginning to tremble before it shattered under the strain.

She could hear his desperate pleas for her to help him, deep in the abyss of his mind, and tried one last time to reach out to him again, but he was like a drowning man grasping for anything he could hold on to.

And her love was all he wanted.

The next instant she was completely enveloped by his feelings of desire, and his dark lips were pressing hard upon her own in a passionate kiss that seemed to her, never ending. She desperately struggled to get out of his grasp, but it just served to make him more forceful, his body pressing hard against her own as the physical manifestation of his desire rose. He kissed her over and over again as she screamed to him, mind to mind, to stop, to see what he was doing, but he was deaf to her words.

With all the strength she could muster through her sheer terror, she reached up as far as she could and dug her nails with as much force as she could manage into his cheek, eventually drawing blood which ran in four tiny dark rivulets down his face, to drip down onto his chest like poison rain.

Finally, he felt the physical pain as her nails gouged his skin, and her internal screams cut through the deafening roar of emotion that had filled his mind as if she wielded a white-hot knife. As the awareness of what he was doing crashed in on him, he pulled back from her sharply with a look of total, abject horror on his face, his eyes wide, now back to their usual yellow-gold. Nuala was looking up at him with silver tears streaming down her own face, mingling with the blood from the nail marks that mirrored those on his own.

He suddenly realized he was still gripping her tightly and let her go with a shuddering gasp, pulling his shaking hands away as if he had been burned. Nuala could feel the new surge of turmoil that her brother was struggling with, and though she was herself reeling with shock and horror of her own at the revelation of all that he was desperately trying to deal with, she still wanted nothing more than to heal his pain, to tell him it could all go back to the way it had been, before this, before she was afraid of her own brother.

But he knew it would never, could never be the same between them ever again. His throat was tight with emotion, rendering him totally unable to speak, if there had been words he could say. But there were none to express what he felt. He looked at his sister with eyes filled with utter sorrow, anguish and complete self-loathing, and the sight of her tear-stained and bloodied face cut through him like an ice-cold blade.

He stumbled backwards, unable to see through the mist of his own tears, and he turned away and ran from the hall. He kept going, out of Bethmoora and on into the wilds that surrounded it.

No-one saw him for days. It was as if he had just vanished into the Earth. But Nuala knew he was, at least, still alive. She could hear him crying out to her, pleading for her forgiveness and saying he was sorry, repeating it over and over.

Nuala had kept to her rooms after Nuada disappeared – and her father became concerned. He rarely came to visit her in her own quarters, so when he came to see her, she was very nervous. He called her to him, eyeing her suspiciously as she approached with her head bowed, hiding behind a curtain of hair. He put a finger beneath her chin and raised her face up so he could see her properly. He scowled and brushed her hair away from her face. The marks had almost healed, but it was obvious to him what they were. She had tried to laugh it off, saying she had stumbled into some wild dog roses on one of her walks. He didn't push the point, but left her alone, being sure of how the marks had come to be there, but not absolutely sure why.

When Nuada finally returned he managed to evade Nuala and his father for a day or so. But the time came when they were both summoned to attend a formal reception for a visiting clan.

Not a word had been spoken to Nuada since his return. Nuala had managed to coax him home with calming words and promises to keep what had happened to herself. But when they set eyes on each other, they couldn't bear to hold each other's gaze, looking away, embarrassed and unsure as to what to say to each other in person. And Balor saw it all. He saw the healing scars on each of their faces, and the furtive looks between them.

He decided to act before anything else could happen.

He kept them apart all evening, and when everyone retired for the night, he kept Nuala back. He talked to her for a long while, about nothing of consequence, and she was totally unaware that he was tightening the barrier he had woven around her, one designed to keep her brother from her heart, to shield her from the son he could not feel as close to. He would not allow him to taint her with his dark spirit.

Though Nuala was not aware of what was happening, Nuada could feel the shield strengthening. And when he next saw his father, the cold look that greeted him told him all he needed to know.

Nuada spent every day in the training hall after that except for meetings called to discuss the wars with the humans. This is when he managed to convince his father to have the Golden Army constructed. In this arena, Balor seemed not to see a son, but just another warrior, and as he held the rank of Silverlance, he had to take his words seriously.

But in such a short time, their relationship, and the one between brother and sister were damaged beyond all repair, and Nuada left Bethmoora to live in exile, alone with his thoughts of love and hate, rage and desire, until they brought him full circle, back to this place.

Back to where the fateful exchange had taken place.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Friends Lost, Friends Found**

The ghosts of the past whispered in Nuada's ears. But if he was to move forward, to become the leader his people needed, he had to let go of these past hurts, whether they were of his own or another's making. He had to find forgiveness in himself, for himself as well as for others. Could he do it? He really was not sure. But he had to try, for everyone's sake.

He walked slowly through the great doors of the weapons-practice hall, which were emblazoned with intricate decoration, showing figures of great Elven warriors fighting gigantic and fearsome beasts, demons which had crossed over into their own realm, threatening the lives of the Children of The Earth and the stability of their world.

Borders around the figures were made up of repeating patterns using the insignia of the various ranks and divisions of the ancient Elven fighting forces, and at centre top, was the insignia worn by the one who held the highest possible rank achieved by a warrior – that of Silverlance. It was the insignia that was engraved on to the blade of Nuada's own spear blade.

It was not an accolade won easily or bestowed on one purely because they were of Royal blood. Indeed, not every Prince of the Royal House had succeeded in reaching these heights of prowess. Nuada had earned this prestigious honour because of his determination, his courage, his skill and total dedication. It was bestowed upon him by his peers, the warriors of Bethmoora, and as such, he had the utmost pride in bearing this title.

And it was time to make sure he deserved it, at all times, and not just for that brief moment when it was awarded him, long ago.

The hall was probably rather too dark to train properly, the sections of the walls that should be glowing brightly during daylight hours as dim as those in the other levels. He looked around the hall and noted with some gratitude that the large mirrored panels between them were almost all intact. He had expected some cracks or tarnishing over time, but the craftsmanship of the Elven silversmiths was beyond compare, and though they were renowned for making small, intricate items, such as the comb he had been given, they were also uniquely adept at creating huge mirrors, so finely polished that they could rival any made of glass. They also had their own, secret method of extracting raw silver and casting it, which rendered it harder than the metal used by humans, but also practically tarnish resistant. It could be used in ways that silver as humans know it would never be, including making weapons, such as the spear Nuada always carried. They were able to imbue this metal, along with most that were not alloyed, with magical properties.

Nuada gathered as many usable torches as he could find and installed them in the sconces that were strategically positioned around the hall, lighting each in turn. Now that there was ample light to train by, he scanned the hall properly. He cleaned the floor of a few pieces of debris, and swept it to remove the dust that had settled over so long, finding many of the day-to-day items needed to keep the hall in its usual pristine condition still where they had been left when the last warriors went out into the world with the rest of the clan.

Around the hall were benches and ledges carved into the walls, some of the ledges being quite high up, some of them having narrow walkways running from them to pillars which rose like giant tree trunks in a wide circle around the perimeter of the central space. There was even a staircase running up one of the walls. These were of course used in training, as unfortunately, battles were rarely fought on perfectly even ground with nothing substantial to get in the way, so a Warrior needed to be able to utilize every potential hazard or awkward corner and convert it into an asset.

These features were also used as convenient seats and viewing platforms whenever there was a particularly good training or sparring session going on, so that the warriors could study technique from more advanced fighters, or just simply watch the action.

Nuada himself had spent countless hours sitting in here, watching the older warriors training and sparring when he was still very young and all through his many years of gruelling, and sometimes rather painful training, until he in turn had become the warrior the younger Elves wanted to emulate, the best of the best, the Silverlance, being watched by many pairs of golden eyes as he worked. The thought that those eager young hopefuls had probably all died in the wars and in the years after leaving Bethmoora, filled him with a deep sadness.

And this led him to make another decision, to act on in time.

But now, he felt the need to train for himself. He was already in full readiness for battle, with his armour, and his spear, so there was no more preparation needed. Walking to the middle of the hall, he stood, feet slightly apart, eyes closed, and centred himself, breathing slowly and deeply. He was ready.

His eyes opened suddenly and his short spear was unsheathed in a split second. No human could ever have seen the movement as anything other than a blur of black silk and an arc of light reflected in silver. He brought the blade over, shifting his stance so that he would be facing his opponent right-side on. He held the blade straight out at shoulder level. Twisting round to face in the opposite direction, he stood in the same side-on stance, but the blade was extended. His opponent would be faced with a full-length spear. He held it deadly straight and steady, the pommel snug against the back of his ribs. His left arm was held slightly out to balance against the change in weight distribution.

Then he let himself go.

He moved across the floor as if chasing down his opponent with great lunges, twists and leaps. The pommel crashed on the flagstones as he used the spear to vault in an arc over a bench that jutted from the wall. Kicking out, his heel would connect with an imaginary jawbone. He brought the spear point round and sharply down to impale the floored opponent.

As he landed he ran across the hall, spinning and twisting. The blade sliced the air as he moved. Reaching one of the pillars he jabbed and slashed as if his opponent had tried to evade him by running behind it. He stabbed the spear point either side so fast he could have taken out two targets in a split second.

Running at the wall he leapt high. His foot reached a small ledge, which he used to gain even more height. As he arched his back and flipped over, he landed lightly on one of the pillar walkways and ran swiftly across the narrow bridge. Twisting round, he leaped off, sending him into a spiralling descent, landing in a low stance with arm out front and spear tip pointing to the ceiling, pommel planted firmly on the ground…..

He continued to train for well over an hour, his spirits soaring as he indulged himself in the one activity that helped him to forget the world and what it had become for a short while...to feel something remotely positive. During the last few centuries of his existence his spirit had been virtually smothered by a dark veil of despair. Today...he truly felt alive!

The sound of footsteps outside the hall drew his attention to the door. He stood up from the crouching position he was in and retracted the spear to sword length, but until he knew who approached he held it at the ready. As Oacma entered the hall, Nuada relaxed inwardly and he sheathed his blade.

The tall Elf bowed to the Prince. 'Sire, Ecris said I was most likely to find you here.' He looked around the hall, his expression one of reminiscence and awe. 'It has been far too long since this hall held the pride of Bethmoora within its walls,' he said quietly, almost to himself, whilst taking in the looming strength of his surroundings. As if suddenly remembering why he was there, he turned back to the Prince again, a little embarrassed at his lapse of concentration. 'Forgive me, Sire, it is just that I have longed to see these halls once more.' He bowed again in apology. Nuada just nodded with a small smile of understanding. There would be few Elves imbued with the fighting spirit who would not wish to be here, at the heart of the warrior's world.

'Some members of the Court returned only a short while ago, Sire,' Oacma continued, looking more than a little concerned, 'and it appears we all missed an important development.' Nuada frowned and nodded. 'Unfortunately, yes. I am concerned as to how long the shapeshifter has been installed at the Court. He could have remained undetected for some time, though I believe he would have to revert to his natural state at least once daily, and he would need to enter a body of water at this time.'

Oacma listened thoughtfully, trying to remember anything that could help. 'I have to assume that the individual he was replacing was…murdered,' Nuada noted bitterly. The loss of another of their kind always cut him deeply. 'We need to speak with whoever would have spent the most time with him…' He wondered about this new-found victim. 'What was his name?' he asked sadly.

'His name is…was…Maiyor,' Oacma replied. 'It was he who originally found Naeva.' Nuada frowned at this. 'He regularly went out to patrol any area we were occupying, accompanied by three or four others. He must have been taken on one of these occasions, when they had separated for a wider search.' Oacma was angry and saddened at the loss of his friend. 'And would he have reported directly to the King after their searches?' asked Nuada. 'Not often, Sire. Mostly he would have reported to myself, and then I to the Princess, though occasionally it would be vice versa.' Oacma replied. 'The King was not always well enough to instruct or receive notifications, so Princess Nuala would take over the duties at these times.'

'That is more or less as I had thought it may be,' said Nuada thoughtfully. 'And yet, she has not alerted anyone to the possibility of his deception. I can only assume, then, that she had not had contact with him recently. If she had she would surely have sensed his true identity.' He turned to Oacma. 'Did you notice any change, however slight, in his behaviour of late?' he asked thoughtfully. Oacma wracked his brains, trying to think of anything that could have pointed to when Maiyor was taken. 'I cannot think of any instance that seemed out of the ordinary…' he began, but then a thought struck him, '…wait! There is something. It never seemed odd before, but after what you said…for the past two weeks he has been undertaking all searches of the area around the troll market…which means he would always be close to the river!'

'Two weeks,' Nuada said quietly, his eyes narrowed as he considered this new information. 'Long enough to pass on a fair amount of information…but hopefully not long enough to make way for other infiltrators. If they had moved too quickly, then it would have been too noticeable.' 'However, we cannot take this as read. We must be vigilant at all times…even with those we have trusted in the past…' he said sadly. His eyes narrowed as he considered this. 'It seems I have a large number of people I need to question in the coming days,' sighed Nuada.

He turned again to Oacma. 'How many returned from the Court?' he asked, getting back to the matter at hand. 'They brought most of those who had direct contact with the core of your father's Council, nearly thirty I would say. There are at least another forty left behind to gather as much in the way of supplies as is possible without drawing too much attention. Though, I would say it will be almost impossible under the circumstances. It appears that word of your return from exile has spread far and fast, and I expect there will be many who will want to see you in person.' Nuada's eyes flashed coldly. 'And some will come to regret it when they do!' he said icily, almost to himself as he thought about the confrontation that inevitably had to come. Oacma did not doubt Nuada's words, and a cold, vengeful smile formed on his lips.

Nuada took a deep breath and re-gathered his thoughts to matters closer at hand. 'We need to take great care now that people are returning here. We cannot allow another to infiltrate Council or Court.' He thought about the most effective way to vet the new and subsequent arrivals. He knew his sister was still not strong enough to take up this responsibility. But another idea had come to him.

'I believe I may know someone who can help us in this, someone who can move amongst them less conspicuously than my sister would be able to. But I need to go alone to find them,' he said, half smiling to himself. Oacma looked very concerned as he contemplated the Prince leaving, especially on his own, but Nuada put a hand on his shoulder and smiled easily. 'Do not be too concerned. I shall only be gone a short while, as the person I seek is not too far away.' Oacma gave a half-hearted smile back.

'Come,' said Nuada, 'I need to speak with Ecris, and to see my sister before I leave.' They left the hall together and made their way back to Ecris and the new arrivals, each commenting on the different halls and chambers and how they may be of use in the future, but also remembering the way things used to be in better times.

Nuada felt comfortable in Oacma's company. They were very like-minded, and he began to think he may have found a friend as well as a loyal subject.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**The Innocents**

Reaching the levels where Ecris and Nuala were to be found, Nuada could hear the voices of the new arrivals, along with the sounds of their footsteps and the odd thud or scrape as furniture and luggage was moved around.

It never took long for the Fey peoples to cross even seemingly vast distances, that would take humans many hours to traverse, even in their modern machines. There were various ways to travel, depending on whether their destination was above or below ground, but either way, there were considerations to be made.

Above ground, if going somewhere they had been before, then it was a simple matter of 'visualizing' the place, and concentration on the desire to be there, seeing themselves in that place. The sensation of movement was strange, a sudden lightness, as if their feet had left the floor, and a strong pull as if a cord was secured to their navel and was being tugged forcefully, pulling them through space, along with a rush of air past them, rather like standing atop a very windy cliff – then, feet were planted back on solid ground, the air stills, and they were there.

If travelling alone to somewhere new it could be slower as it would be necessary to first reach a place you had been previously, as near as possible to this new destination, and to continue on foot or by whatever means you wished to employ. It would always be advisable to keep in  
mind all the places of interest in between, so you could remember them for future reference too.

However, if groups travelled together it was possible for one to act as a guide for the others, who would all be linked by hands or other physical touch to the guide and each other. As long as the 'passengers' were in contact with each other, it would be possible for many, many people to travel in this way. This method could have saved many lives during the wars with the humans, and in more recent times of peril. But loyalty to the clan, or in the case of the warriors, to their comrades, never being prepared to leave even one individual behind while they still lived, they would choose to stand and fight. As long as one of their number was unaccounted for, a courageous last stand would be made.

Nuada and Oacma rounded a corner and came to one of the communal gathering areas near to the residential quarters which were being used by the Prince and the others. There were a few individuals standing and talking in small groups or carrying bags or dragging trunks to be taken to their newly allotted rooms. As the Prince came into view and the realization of who had just entered dawned on some of them, silence descended across the gathering.

Nuada stood still, waiting to see what reaction would ensue. He was still the proud and Regal person he had been when he saw his father, but he wanted to see what reception he would get, without pushing the point himself.

As if a silent cue had been given, all those assembled bowed low in deference to their new leader. They held this position for the few seconds expected of them, then rose, standing up straight and still, many pairs of awe-filled golden eyes glittering in the torchlight. Nuada gave a small nod in acknowledgement. 'Please, do not stop on my account,' he said to them. 'There will be much we need to do to prepare our home.' They looked to each other at these words. 'It is my hope that we will bring pride and happiness back to this, our clan's heartland, and in turn, to all our people, and I am thankful that I am surrounded by Elves of Bethmoora as we begin our task together.' In less than traditional manner, Nuada bowed in thanks, hand on heart.

This gesture from their new leader brought a new love and admiration to the hearts of his birth-clan, and as one, the Elves dropped to one knee, in a sincere display of loyalty to the Prince they once feared they would never get the chance to serve. Nuada was touched. His heart was at last filled with the feeling of belonging that he had missed for so, so long.

'Come,' he said in strong and proud voice, 'let us begin. We have work to do.' As the Elves of Bethmoora rose to their feet, Nuada turned to Oacma, who was standing beside him, looking almost awestruck. It had been a long time since they had a leader who possessed the strength to carry out their ambitions. 'Let us speak with Ecris,' Nuada said quietly, not wanting to be overheard. 'I shall leave as soon as possible. With the new threat we face, time is of the essence.'

As they strode purposefully out of the hall, a murmur of excited voices followed them out.

*****

They found Ecris still attending Naeva with Sciana, though he seemed much less anxious than he had previously. They bowed to the Prince, then continued with their duties.

'Sire, I am pleased to say that Naeva appears at last, to be recovering well,' said Ecris with a relieved smile. 'I have concluded that it is her Elfaneen ancestry which has given her the strength to survive these and her past ordeals. I have always found it strange that a human had the fortitude to overcome such dire injuries as she has suffered.' 'She has been injured before?' Nuada asked. 'Yes, Sire.' Ecris looked at her sadly. 'I think perhaps I shall explain to you myself so that she does not have to relate the details. I do not believe she needs to re-live the worst of it again.'

'Very well, Ecris,' said Nuada, intrigued. 'However, we shall have to delay this talk for a short while. There is something I must do to resolve a more pressing concern.' 'Sire?' Ecris moved away from the bed so that Naeva and Sciana could not hear properly, as he did not want to concern them further. Nuada and Oacma followed. 'I believe I know of someone who can help us with our security problem,' said Nuada. 'I am acquainted with a shapeshifter myself, a Selkie named Ayla. She would be able to detect another shapeshifter, even of another race, and she could do it discreetly. No-one will realize what we are doing, so if another traitor lies within our midst, we can either remove them, or use them to our advantage.'

'This sounds like the ideal solution. Where can we find her?' asked Ecris. 'I will go myself,' said Nuada. 'I know the place she is most likely to be found, and we have a mutual trust. She may not make herself known to a stranger. Selkies have a well-deserved reputation for being shy with those they do not know,' his expression changed slightly, sadness and anger showing through, though he tried to stay focused, '...and she has good reason to behave so.' He did not elaborate, so they did not ask him more about it.

'I am not sure you should go alone, Sire,' said Ecris. He looked more than a little worried. 'I doubt I shall be gone more than one night,' said Nuada, trying to put the Mage's mind at rest, 'and I intend to leave when all is quiet here. So long as no-one else is aware then I think we have nothing to fear. I will need a gown and cloak to take with me, as she will have none of her own.' 'I think perhaps we should ask Sciana to help with that,' Ecris suggested, and Nuada nodded. He called Sciana over to them and explained that they needed the gown and cloak and why. 'I will give you one each of my own,' she said, 'that way no-one else need be involved.' She bowed and left to fetch them immediately.

'What would you have us say if someone needs to speak with you urgently?' Oacma asked. 'We do not wish to arouse suspicions or allow rumour to begin circulating.' Indeed, thought Nuada, it was unfortunate that such things always took on a life of their own when tongues started to wag. 'As long as Ecris also stays out of sight while I am away, you should say that I am in conference with my advisor discussing important matters. They will have to be satisfied with that,' said Nuada. 'There is much for us to discuss, so it will not seem at all strange.' 'Agreed,' said Ecris. 'I will stay here and tend Naeva and the Princess. He turned to Oacma. 'If you help me to keep the rooms in this section clear, then I will not even have to leave this corridor.' Oacma nodded in agreement.

'Very well, then,' said Nuada, 'I shall go and prepare to leave. Please ask Sciana to bring the gown to my room.' 'Sire.' Oacma and Ecris bowed and Nuada left to return to his own room.

He entered, but left his door open. Someone had been in here again. More things had been left for his comfort, including drinking water and additional fuel for the fire. His bed was also looking far more comfortable too, with a pillow and a warmer cover over it.

He moved to sit by the fire and stared into the flames. He would have to organize the rooms better when he returned, he decided. These quarters were the basic rooms once used by the servants and lower orders in Bethmooran society. The chambers used by the Royal Household were still as they had been left, doors not even opened. Nuada knew he would have to go back there soon, though some of the memories they held he would rather not have to recall at this moment. But, if they were to transform Bethmoora back into a fully functioning palace and fortress once more, the proper protocols would have to be followed. He could not expect his people to organize themselves into any semblance of a united realm, if their leader could not even organize his own sleeping arrangements properly.

He thought about the absurdities his life held, having to make decisions as mediocre as which bed to sleep in, at the same moment as having to contemplate what would likely be a life-or-death confrontation with his crazed uncle. He shook his head at the madness of it and sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that his days would now be filled with more of these smaller issues, when all he wanted to do was concentrate on the significant matters of state. Thank the Gods for delegation! At least he could offload some of it to the Chamberlain and his clerical cohorts.

He frowned and gave a little huff of annoyance. The thought of having to deal with the Chamberlain and his kind was not a particularly happy one. He found all that side of Court life to be irritating in the extreme. Clerical cronies simpering ways were vastly removed from the straightforward 'Just get on with it!' ways of the warrior's mindset, though there was far more cunning and astuteness to be found in the mind of a Bethmooran warrior than in that of a pompous quill-pusher!

Then he remembered the look on the Chamberlain's face the last time they met, when Nuada had his sword to his throat… 'Maybe he will be a little less obstructive when next we meet,' he thought to himself, and a slightly mischievous smile crept across his lips.

He stood, turned from the fire and walked over to sit on his bed and pulled his pack open, taking everything out of it. He needed very few things to take with him this time.

A movement caught his eye, and he looked up to see a shadow in the corridor. A second later, Sciana appeared, holding an emerald green gown and brown cloak, both folded across her arm. He motioned for her to enter, and she bowed and walked over to him. 'Will these be suitable, Sire?' she asked, still rather nervous in the company of their leader. Nuada took the gown and held it up. 'They will,' he replied easily. 'Thank you. I shall return them to you as soon as I can.' 'Please do not concern yourself about it, Sire. I can manage without them for a while yet.' 'You are very generous,' said Nuada nodding his thanks. 'I know that in these times even such basic necessities as clothing have been hard to come by.' He carefully folded the gown and placed it at the bottom of his pack, with the cloak on top, so that if anyone came in while he was packing, they would not see it. Rumour would definitely abound if someone saw him with it!

'Why do they always want to marry a Prince off as soon as he comes within ten feet of a throne?' he thought to himself in exasperation.

'Will that be all, Sire?' Sciana asked. 'Yes, thank you…no wait,' said Nuada, turning to her again. 'I have a question. I have been…away for some considerable time, and as such there are things, events, that I have missed,' he began. 'Since returning I have noticed the absence of an important number of our people.' Sciana frowned, not understanding. Nuada looked serious and concerned. 'Children,' he said simply. 'Are there none? Have there been no births…at all, since my leaving?' He was rather dreading the reply, but he needed to know.

Sciana was surprised at the question, not really expecting it. She looked at Nuada with sad eyes. 'There have been a few, Sire…' tears welled in her pale gold eyes…'but not enough. We have truly been a dying people.' She dabbed her eyes with her sleeve edge, trying to blink back her tears. Nuada had known as much in his heart, but he had to be sure he knew everything that concerned their people, especially matters that held such importance for their future.

'But Ecris said something to me, that gave me a little hope, Sire,' she said, trying to look at least a little more positive. Nuada needed some hope to come his way. There was precious little of it for him, it seemed. Or for any of them. 'He believes that returning to Bethmoora and renewing our link to our true homeland may help us in this. He says that apart from what the humans have done, the fact that this fundamental link was broken caused an imbalance in our physiology that could only be properly corrected by returning.'

'Well, let us have hope then,' said Nuada, with a small smile. But it soon turned into a frown as he thought. 'But if there have been births, where are the children now?' This had still not been answered. Sciana looked truly heartbroken and covered her face with her hands. Nuada did not want to think what caused such a reaction, but he needed to know. He reached up and gently took her hands, moving them from her face. 'Tell me,' he said gently, 'Please..' She looked up with a sorrowful expression, the torchlight showing the wet tracks of her tears on her cheeks.

'It is alright, Sciana,' said a voice from the doorway. They both turned to see Nuala standing there, looking much more like her old self than she had recently, a sad expression on her face also. Sciana bowed to the Princess as she entered, whilst trying to wipe her tears away.

'Nuala!' Nuada was surprised to see her back on her feet. He rushed over to her and put his arms around her in a very relieved brotherly hug. 'Are you sure you are well enough to be out of bed?' he asked, still worrying about her. Still unable to hear or feel her. But he was very slowly getting used to the idea. 'I am well enough, brother,' she replied, as they parted. 'I could not help but overhear what you asked,' she said, looking a little concerned. She turned to Sciana. 'Do not fret, I will explain,' she said quietly. She took Sciana's hand in her own and held it gently. 'You do not have to stay if you would rather not listen,' she said to her. 'No, My Lady, it is alright. I shall stay,' she replied sadly. 'Very well.'

Nuada was puzzled, but stayed silent. He led Nuala to the bed and made her sit down. 'If you are to tell me, then you should at least rest while you do so.' 'Do not fuss so!' said Nuala, her tone cross, but she wore a little smile. Nuada sighed and shook his head at his sister's stubbornness, but let her carry on. It really was more like old times!

'The children?' he asked again. 'They were taken,' she began. 'There were five, four boys and a girl, all born within a year of each other, the year of our leaving Bethmoora.' 'Taken?' He asked with a frown. 'They were all very young, only about 20 years old. There had been a confrontation with some humans, and we were looking for somewhere to move to, but no-one was sure where we should go. It was decided that the children be hidden somewhere, with three adults guarding them, while some guarded our current home and others went out to find a safer place to stay. But it seems that someone had been watching as the children were hidden in a small cave. In the middle of the night, they were attacked by humans and the adults killed.'

'Humans again!!! he thought to himself, rage growing within him once more.

'The children were taken to a human settlement, where they were held,' Nuala continued. 'After some time they were taken from there, and on their journey one of the boys managed to release the lock on the cage in which they were being transported. They tried to escape, but only the girl and one of the boys managed to get away. One of the other boys was killed immediately and the remaining two were re-captured.'

'They killed the child?!' said Nuada angrily, 'How frightened they must have been of a small, defenseless boy!' he said with bitter sarcasm. He seethed at the thought of the humans slaughtering an innocent child, who had done nothing to them, who had not lived long enough to do..ANYTHING.

Nuala looked at Sciana to make sure she was still alright. She did not want to continue without knowing her friend could cope. Sciana gave a small smile and nodded to the Princess to carry on with the tale. Nuala sighed heavily as she continued. 'The boy who escaped had been badly wounded, and died later, but not before telling the girl what he had seen. The one who killed the boy and re-captured the others was a troll of some kind, not a human,' she said, knowing exactly in which direction her brother's mind would be heading.

Nuada had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he began to understand where this was probably leading. He closed his eyes as he waiting for confirmation of what he was dreading to hear. 'But, he also saw the one giving the order. He was cloaked and hooded, but he did get a glimpse of him.' 'He was an Elf also,' said Nuada icily. He knew in his heart of hearts who it was. Nuala swallowed nervously as she regarded her brother who was obviously becoming more and more angry. 'He never saw his face properly, but swore he was, indeed, of Elfkind – and he was in league with the humans.'

Nuada sighed heavily and shook his head. 'I think we now have a fair idea who he was,' said Nuada bitterly. He opened his eyes and turned to Sciana who was visibly trembling, and he knew the rest without being told. 'And the girl…was you? He asked quietly. Sciana just nodded, her lip trembling and her eyes bright with tears. He stood and took Sciana's hands once more, looking at her with eyes that grew darker moment by moment as the anger rose in him. 'He will be made to pay for what he has done,' he said quietly. 'I promise this to you.' Sciana looked up at him and gave a little nod. She could see he meant every word.

He released her hands, and she wiped away her tears. Nuada sighed. 'I must finish my packing,' he said, moving back to his bed, trying to move his thoughts away from his uncle before his anger became too much for him to concentrate properly on matters at hand. But feeling saddened by Sciana's obvious pain at his asking, he turned to her once again. 'I am sorry that my question upset you, but there is much I need to acquaint myself with regarding the years of my absence,' he said in sad apology.

'Please, Sire, if I can help, I will. I still have my life and tears are a part of every life.' She raised her head and her eyes flashed brightly. 'I will not be beaten by him. And I will do all I can to make certain you prevail against him,' she said, showing a defiance that hinted at her inner strength of spirit. Nuada was impressed with her show of courage, and nodded his thanks to her for understanding his need to ask. 'Sire, if that is all, I shall return to help Ecris and Oacma to prepare for your departure,' she said finally, breathing deeply to calm herself so she could get on with her work to help them all in her own small way. 'You may go,' said Nuada, nodding in thanks once more. She bowed to both Nuada and Nuala and walked from the room.

He watched her leave, then returned to the bed to sit beside his sister. He knew there would be many more tears before Bres was dealt with, and he made a promise to himself that his uncle would regret the shedding of each and every one of them. A new thirst for vengeance was growing in him. It was a very familiar feeling. He knew though that this time he had to control it – rather than letting it control him as before.

Nuala could sense the tension in him. She laid her hand on his. 'Please, brother, do not dwell on this too much,' she said quietly, still afraid of what may happen if he became truly obsessed by vengeance once more. 'It will be alright, sister…I will be alright,' he said, with a sad smile. 'I do not intend to go back…to the way I was before.' He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. He did not want her to be frightened of him anymore. Nuala leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. 'I know,' she said simply.

She noticed his pack on the floor and frowned. 'Where is it are you going to?' she asked, looking worried. 'Do not be concerned,' said Nuada, leaning down to continue his packing. He told her of his plan to fetch the shapeshifter and tried to reassure her that all would be well. He stood up and began to remove his armour, unsheathing his spear blade first and laying it down. He also took the twin daggers from his sash. Nuala looked at them, glinting in the torchlight before her.

Nuada saw her expression as she recognized them, and wondered to himself about what was in her heart at that moment, though he did not want to. It would take a long time for this particular feeling to fade it seemed. 'Would you…like this returned?' he asked quietly, holding one of the daggers out to her. His heart was pounding, but he did his best to remain outwardly calm. She stared at it for a short while, then turned away with her eyes closed. 'No. I never want to hold it again,' she said, her voice quiet and full of emotion.

At this, he turned around and placed it under his pillow, out of sight, calming himself inwardly as the tension of the moment passed. The other, he pushed into the sheath that he still possessed, and packed it with the rest of his things. He removed his sash and the seal. He would have to be as inconspicuous as possible when leaving Bethmoora. If anyone realized he was absent, even for a short while, there could be dire consequences.

The sound of more footsteps approaching caused both siblings to look to the door, where they saw Oacma preparing to knock. 'Please, Sire, My Lady,' he said bowing to them, there is a meal waiting for you if you would like to eat now.' 'Thank you,' said Nuada gratefully. Nuala just gave a little nod and dipped her head, looking down at her hands. Nuada took this in and turned to look to where Oacma stood. He too was looking down, seemingly engrossed in what his feet looked like.

A knowing smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, but he repressed it as best he could. 'We shall be along directly,' he said instead, and Oacma bowed again and disappeared quickly out of sight.

Nuada regarded his sister. 'How long have you felt this way?' he asked. Nuala looked up at him with a shocked and slightly embarrassed expression. 'What do you mean?' she replied, all in a fluster. 'You do not need to be so embarrassed!' said Nuada, trying not to laugh at his sister's lack of composure. He reached down and lifted her chin with his hand. 'He is a good man,' he said quietly. 'Do not let him slip away.' He smiled down at her and she replied with wide, bright eyes and a grateful smile of her own.

But he remembered a certain person that Nuala had so obviously been attracted to, not so long ago. Someone not of their race. 'I do not wish to upset you, sister,' he began, trying to choose his words as carefully as possible, '…but, I wondered…what of the stranger, Abraham? You had feelings for him…yes?' Nuala looked down at her hands once more, at the open palm which had become the bridge between herself and Abraham, allowing them to share the most tender of moments.

'I truly did…do…feel an attraction to him,' she began, 'but I know that now, as things are, nothing can come of it. We are separated by more than physical distance. Death has come between us.' She looked up at him sadly. 'If we ever do cross paths in the future, I am only hopeful that we shall be able to continue our friendship. He is truly a good man, brother.'

Nuada looked down at his pack in which was the blade that he had used to cut his sister's face in his fit of jealousy upon realizing that she had feelings for Abraham and not for him. He closed his eyes, remembering the feelings that had swelled in him, back in the BPRD library, the strange mixture of brotherly love, jealousy and lust that had twisted his heart and mind.

A feeling of shame washed over him as he realized just what his sister had been trying to get away from when she had broken their connection in the last moments of their previous life. 'I am sorry, my sister,' he whispered. 'It seems I shall be saying that frequently,' he said sadly. She gazed at him with sad eyes. 'All that matters now is that you understand what happened in the past...and that I know you do not wish it for our future,' she said kindly.

He looked to her again, unable to find words that could adequately express what was in his heart. She was always so forgiving, so gentle and kind. And he did not feel he deserved it at all. All he could do now was concentrate on his next quest, to ensure that his sister had no more cause for sadness to be reflected in those beautiful, bright eyes. He nodded and tried to smile, but it did not convince her of her brother's acceptance that he should put to one side what he had done and move on. She sighed, knowing that he would be working through all his past actions for a long while yet.

Nuada turned to his pack once more and finished what he was doing in silence, then, picking up his spear, he took Nuala's hand and led her to where their food was waiting for them.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**Moonlight Memories**

Nuada had waited until the inhabitants of Bethmoora had retired for the night before making his way silently through the palace and leaving via his favoured portal. It had not taken long at all to travel to the place he knew he would most likely find the person he was seeking, and was now ready to wait for their arrival. It was a full year since they had met in their usual manner, and he was awaiting their reunion with a growing sense of excitement.

The beach was otherwise empty, but Nuada remained cloaked in glamour, just in case human eyes were near enough to be able to see him. The full moon cast its silvery glow upon the lapping waves, creating shimmering ribbons of light which rolled gently across the sand towards his now bare feet, then slid back again to rejoin the slowly receding tide. Further out, the inky black waters shimmered with moving specks of light, as if the stars had fallen to Earth so they could dance together upon a great dark mirror.

He turned and walked the few paces back up the soft sand to where he had left his pack. Taking off his black silk undershirt, he dropped it so it landed atop the boots he had already removed and that already lay beside the bag. Opening the bag, he took out Sciana's cloak, then walked back down to the water's edge and placed it on the now drying sand.

Gazing out across the ballroom of starlight, he stood, holding his arms slightly away from his body, his hands loosely open, so that he could properly feel the soft sea breeze as it whispered across his bare skin. It caught strands of his long blonde hair, causing it to move in pale wisps across his chest and shoulders, as he gazed at the moon, the silvery light glinting in his pale golden eyes.

Every minute change in the movement of cool air across his skin was like the lightest caress of fingertips tracing the contours of his body. He closed his eyes as the thrill of each sensation made his skin tingle. It felt as if the moonlight were soaking into every pore and filling him with life.

He took a slow deep breath, and released it with a gentle sigh as another thrill swept through his body. He bathed in the moonlight, submerged his mind in the depths of her sensuous power, and lost himself in the experience of it….

A small splash sounded in the water close by…..and a smile of anticipation slowly formed on his dark lips.

Another splash, closer now…and another…

He whispered the name of the one he knew approached him….

'Ayla…'

He slowly opened his eyes as the sound of splashing came ever closer…

All a human would have seen is the small, rounded face of a seal bobbing in the sea before it submerged once again to disappear in the waves. But Nuada kept watching, and his patience was rewarded as the surface of the water was broken once more, this time by a pale form, rising slowly from the sea…a woman, starkly beautiful, with pale skin, large brown eyes, and long brown hair.

She walked slowly towards the beach, each curve of her body uncovered as she rose from the waves, her shoulders, full breasts, arms, narrow waist, and the curve of her hips, shapely thighs and calves, until she stepped fully from the water in front of him, pale and unashamedly naked. In her hand she held the silky fur sealskin that she had just shed in her transformation.

She gazed at Nuada with her large, dark eyes, head tilted slightly, and a small knowing smile on her rosy lips. 'A full moon in the sky and an Elven warrior waiting at the water's edge. Can it be that Nuada, Prince of Bethmoora has come to seek the company of a lonely Selkie woman once more?'

She stepped forward to stand directly in front of him and took his hand, and he in turn slowly lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it, never shifting his gaze from hers. 'My Lady Ayla,' he said bowing to her, still holding her hand. 'Indeed my visit has again 'coincided' with the full moon,' he said with a wry smile, 'but this time it was…initially…unintentional, as I have a serious matter that I need to discuss with you rather than just our usual…more pleasurable concerns,' he said with a naughty glint in his eye.

'Ah well,' Ayla sighed dramatically, 'then I shall remain…lonely…for a little while longer I fear.' She smiled at Nuada and laughed easily at his exaggeratedly sorrowful expression. He leant down and picked up the cloak. 'Here,' he said, as he unfolded it, 'I will not be accused of allowing one of my subjects to freeze to death when I come to ask for her help.'

He wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, took her hand and led her to where his belongings lay. They sat down on the sand together, Ayla placing the sealskin beside Nuada's pack – and he began to relate everything that had happened since their last meeting.

Ayla laid a comforting hand on his as he told her of the sad demise of Mr Wink. She had come to know him very well and considered him a good friend. She was very upset by his loss, especially as she knew just how much of a friend Nuada had considered him to be, and that precious few had ever been allowed to get so close.

Nuada had tried to protect himself by creating an inner barrier through which no-one could pass, unless they were particularly fortunate for him to consider trustworthy enough. She knew that he was more fragile than people realized, and would feel the loss of his friend very deeply.

When he told her of what happened between him and his father she was shocked. In his eyes she could see the fear that he felt, that she may just get up and return to the sea, never wanting to set eyes on him again. But she knew far better than most that he would never have done what he had if given another choice.

And, as he told her of what had happened in the Golden Army Chamber, describing in great detail what he had thought were to be his final moments of life, she had to press the fingers of her free hand to her lips to stop them trembling and to suppress the urge to weep. She could see he did not need that, not now. He was tense with emotion and a sighed shakily, despite his best efforts to be calm.

The time had come to relate to her the most recent events, and the reason he needed her help. He explained what he needed her to do and that even if Nuala had been strong enough to conduct a search herself, it was less likely to arouse suspicion if Ayla was able to move freely amongst the others and just observe discreetly. Finally he told her of his plan to slip back into Bethmoora, and return with another trusted ally, to take her back in a way more acceptable to the protocols he had to follow if their plan was to succeed.

She was more than surprised at all that had happened and all that he was asking of her, but for him, nothing was too much to ask. She owed him much more than this favour. She owed him her life.

'My Lord Prince. If I can be of service to you, I will do all that I can. I shall return with you to Bethmoora,' she said in formal acceptance of his request. 'Thank you,' he said simply, and placed his free hand on hers, squeezing gently. He could not find words to adequately express his gratitude. He sat beside her, gazing sadly at the sand between his feet as he contemplated all that he had to do to ensure his people's safety, at least for the foreseeable future.

Ayla sighed heavily. She gazed at Nuada, frowning. 'Hmmmm…' He turned to her, wondering what she was thinking. 'What is it?' 'I think it is probably time that you allowed yourself a moment to rest,' she said, regarding him with sad expression. 'Come, you must lie down and rest' she said, patting the sand behind him. He could not fail to notice there was a twinkle in her eye. He knew the look she gave him well, and a smile twitched the corners of his mouth.

He gave a weary sigh and lay back with his hands behind his head, and Ayla lay down on her side next to him, propping herself up on one elbow so she could see him properly.

Nuada gazed at the moon which hung bright and large in the sky. He began to relax and to allow the sensations of cool air and moonlight on his skin to fill his consciousness once more. He closed his eyes and sighed as the tension began to leave him. The sound of the waves lapping at the shore's edge relaxed him further, and he could feel every breath of wind on his skin. The full moon always had a particular effect on him, as Ayla knew of old. It was one of the strongest of nature's influences that was still tangible, as humans had not yet found a way to spoil it.

The sensation of something brushing gently across his chest made him open his eyes, to see Ayla sitting up over him, a strand of her hair moving across his skin as it caught the breeze. 'How many more?' she asked sadly. 'A few,' he answered simply. 'Turn over,' she told him quietly. He smiled and shook his head, but did as he was told. This had become a ritual with them over the many years they had been meeting here. And he did rather enjoy it.

He rolled over on to his stomach and lay back down resting his cheek on the back of his hands, sighing contentedly. The back of his neck tickled slightly as Ayla gently swept his hair off his back and over his shoulders, to fall in swirls across his arms and on the sand.

A little thrill of pleasure ran through his body as her fingertips first made contact with his skin and began to brush gently across his back, tracing the contours of each muscle as she conducted her slow and delicate search. She stopped suddenly. 'This one,' she said, as innocently as she could. 'Is this new? I do not remember it.' She smiled to herself as she ran a fingertip slowly across a long scar that ran diagonally, close to the tip of his shoulder blade.

'I think it may well be,' he replied, also smiling. She knew full well it was an old injury and that she'd seen it many times before. He felt her hair fall across his back as she leaned over him, her breath warm as she moved closer. Her lips brushed against his skin in a warm chain of soft kisses that ran along the length of the scar. He relished the sensation of her softness against him as she moved.

She sighed again. 'Are there more?' 'Yes, I am afraid so,' said Nuada, trying to sound saddened whilst a contended smile played on his lips. 'But I seem to have forgotten exactly where they are.' She smiled knowingly at his tone. She continued her fingertip search of his skin, until she had inspected every inch of his back.'No more here. Turn back over.'

Again he did as he was told, and flipped over to lie on his back, but as he put his hands behind his head once more, she reached over his chest so she could hold the top of his right arm and held her head to one side so she could see properly. 'What's this?' she asked. 'This is definitely new.' It was the wound he received in his battle with the demon, well healed but obviously recent. She gently pulled his hand from under his head, and leaned further over him, moving his arm so that she could gently stroke the scar that ran along his bicep, then, as before, she leaned gently forward and kissed it softly, inch by inch.

When she was done with this new scar, she slid back down to the sand and sat up slowly, resting a hand on his stomach, a sad expression replacing the one of contentment she had worn before. He draped his arm round her where she sat on the sand. 'I know there is another,' she said quietly. 'Would you rather I left it…for another time?' This wound had taken his life away, and set him on this new and treacherous journey.

He lay silent for a moment, thinking of all this wound had come to represent in his mind. 'No,' he said finally. 'I would not.' He turned to face her. 'Give me a better reason to remember it,' he said softly, his voice filled with sadness. He closed his eyes. He wanted to smother the memory that resided within this small raised line on his skin. To give it a new meaning.

And Ayla understood completely. She had known him so long. They were not 'in love' now, nor had they ever been, but they did care for one another deeply none-the-less, and memories of love were preferable to those of death, for both of them.

She slowly moved her hand to the small scar that loomed large in their minds. Laying her head on his chest, she gently ran her finger across it, then, lifting her head a little, she leaned forward until she hovered barely a hair's breadth from the scar. Closing her eyes, she very slowly ran the tip of her tongue across the scar, finally pressing her soft lips against his skin to kiss it with great tenderness and love.

Nuada breathed in deeply, holding it for a short while before releasing it in a slow, gentle sigh as he allowed the soft, warm sensation to fill his mind. He wanted to remember every minute detail of it. This was the memory he would recall whenever he felt the scar, or saw it in reflection.

Ayla slowly pulled herself up so she was draped languidly across him, face to face, and Nuada moved his arm up so that he could hold her against him, stroking the curve at the small of her back, as she ran her fingers across his pale cheek. He opened his eyes to find hers gazing back at him. 'Will that do?' she asked quietly. He replied by lifting his head, and using his now free hand to pull her face gently towards him till their lips met in a long, tender kiss.

Ayla pulled slowly away and smiled, stroking his cheek. 'Very good, Sire,' she said contentedly, her eyes twinkling mischievously. He knew she was ready for their usual reason for meeting…and the anticipation of what was to come made him smile to himself. It was always like this between them, and he was more than happy to continue with the custom.

She moved her hand slowly from his cheek, running her fingertips along his jaw line, down his neck, and on to trace the contours of his chest. Nuada closed his eyes at the sensation, anticipation making every nerve in his body tingle. She could feel the rhythm of his heart beginning to quicken at her touch, and ran her finger slowly across his nipple, circling it two or three times for good measure, which elicited an appreciative sigh.

Her hand travelled down, along his stomach, following the ridge between his highly defined muscles and across his navel, and on, over his clothing. 'Ah,' she said impishly as her hand found what it was seeking. 'It seems that you may not be as tired as I first feared. Parts of you are much more awake than others!' she said as she slowly brushed her hand over him once more, causing him to take a deep breath as his feelings of desire grew.

'You are a wicked woman, Ayla of the Sea!' said Nuada, which just made her laugh naughtily. 'Not as wicked as I could be!' She moved her hand up to his waistband, undid the fastenings and slid her hand down until she reached her goal.

A thrill of pleasure raced through Nuada's body at her touch and he gave a shuddering gasp. He had restrained himself long enough, he decided. He pulled her tight to him and rolled her over so she lay beneath him and leaned in to kiss her, pressing his lips hard into the softness of hers, their tongues moving together, whilst his hand swept down to find the soft fullness of her breast.

After a time he pulled his head back and gazed down at Ayla who lay gasping for breath. 'Now who is being wicked?' she giggled, her eyes glinting in the moonlight. 'Oh, dear lady,' he said, his eyes bright, and he leaned close to her ear and whispered. 'Not nearly wicked enough!'

Nuada moved so that his lips hovered, barely touching hers. He reciprocated her earlier gesture and brushed his thumb across her nipple, and she gave a little gasp. As her lips parted he ran the tip of his tongue across her bottom lip before kissing her again and again as the aching desire he felt grew, his hand moving over her body hungrily.

They lost themselves in their passion, exploring each other with hands and mouths until he could wait no longer. Ayla lay so that they could, for the first time that night, be united in love and desire, as they had many times before…

And when they finally lay in each other's arms, exhausted but happy, their pale bodies entwined as they bathed in silver moonlight, more ghostly spectres of the past swam through Nuada's mind as he held her close, memories of how they had come to meet and form their bond of friendship and love…

*********

Deep in the darkness of Bethmoora, in a small room, a woman woke from her sleep with a start, and her friend, who was watching over her jumped in alarm. 'What is it, Naeva?' asked Sciana, her eyes wide with concern. Naeva blinked as she tried to get her eyes to focus on her friend who was gazing back at her worriedly. 'Sciana! I…I am not sure. It felt like someone touched me! Here,' she said indicating the now healing wound under her breast. 'Well, not really a touch, more like a…' She stopped and looked at her friend and felt a little embarrassed and foolish. 'Never mind,' she said instead, shaking her head. 'It was just a dream.'

'But it felt like a Kiss!' she thought to herself as she rolled over onto her side, frowning as she tried to make sense of what had just happened...


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Ayla's Story: Part 1**

Being separated from his or her sealskin is the one thing a Selkie feared most. Without it, they could never return to their true state or their kin in the cold, coastal waters.

Unfortunately, human men had taken particular delight in capturing unwary Selkie women, by stealing their skins if they came ashore in human form, and they would hold them to ransom, promising to return them if the Selkie agreed to bed them. Of course, once bedded, the men would refuse to return the skins and force the Selkies to become their 'wives', as they sickeningly referred to it. They would be forced to work almost as slaves, having no option other than to be as 'obliging' as possible if they ever had any hope of regaining their skin and their freedom one day. Many would either waste away in despair or just walk into the sea to drown in their human form. At least then their kin would find the body and finally come to know what had become of their lost kinfolk.

It was just this kind of exploitation that Ayla had suffered in the past. And it was Nuada who had saved her from a tormented death at her own hands.

He had gone to an island off the western coast of the land the humans called Scotland, after receiving word from a small group of Fey folk that they had come across a captive Selkie woman one night.

They had been searching the island in the hope of finding one of their lost kin, but had instead found the woman, sitting outside one of the small human dwellings. She was nursing a painfully black eye, sobbing and crying out in the Old Tongue, begging to be released. Inside the house they could hear the drunken human laughing and taunting her, throwing things at the walls so they would smash into pieces.

'Get in here, you Selkie bitch!' he shouted at her as he laughed. 'There's a spot o' cleaning needs doin'.' He laughed at himself, deciding he was being highly amusing. The Fey had offered to help, but as she didn't know where her sealskin had been hidden, she had no choice but to stay and hope he would relent and return it. She could not even use glamour to become invisible, to try to follow him to it, because once separated from it, she lost even that basic ability, though she could still see others hidden from human view under its influence. Without this ability, she could never travel safely with the Fey. They had to leave her behind in the clutches of this disgusting human.

But, as fortune would have it, Nuada had learned of her captivity. And he was enraged by it. One of the Fey guided him to the place before returning to his family, carrying with him the Prince's promise to make the human pay for his actions.

Luck had truly been on her side on that day. Nuada was cloaked in glamour and was heading towards the dwelling when a movement on the shore caught his eye. His eyes widened with horror as he realized what was happening, and he raced to the waterline. Ayla had been given another beating, and that had finally destroyed the last shred of hope she had been holding on to. She made her way down to the narrow shingle beach, walking as if in a trance as the water called her to her death.

She had removed the human garments as she walked, dropping them to the ground, so she would be rid of the stench of the human that lingered on them from the last time he had violated her. At least she would die free of his filth. She was up to her waist in the water by the time Nuada got to her, and was about to let the waves take her, but as she closed her eyes for the last time, allowing herself to fall backwards into oblivion, it was Nuada's arms which claimed her instead of the icy waters.

She was so tired, but her eyelids fluttered open at the sudden appearance of someone's arms around her. It was like trying to focus on the sun after being dragged from a darkened room into the light of a bright summer's day. His yellow-gold eyes were all she really saw, the eyes of another Fey. It was all finally too much for her and she fell instead into the dark recesses of unconsciousness.

Nuada stood in the ice cold water, gazing down at her battered and bruised face. He was shaking. But it was not the cold of the water which caused it, but the rage he battled to keep under control. He scooped her up, lifting her from the sea, and carried her across the shingle, to a niche between the rocks where they were sheltered from the blustering wind.

He knelt down with her, releasing her legs so his hand was free to undo the fastening at the neck of his cloak. Though it was now mostly wet, it was better than nothing, so he wrapped her in it and held her as close as possible, trying to warm her and desperately willing her to open her eyes. He stared down at her face as he cradled her. He could see she was probably strikingly beautiful, but at this moment, that beauty was marred by the injuries she had received from her brutish captor.

Her eyes were swollen and darkened, and her bottom lip was now dark with blood, which oozed from a nasty split near the corner of her mouth. He gingerly wiped the blood away with his thumb, and at his touch, her eyes flickered open. They were a beautiful rich brown, though it was quite hard to tell this for the swelling. But despite their terrible state, Nuada could not fail to see the depth of the despair that lived behind them.

She gazed up at him, this time able to focus more clearly on his eyes, his pale skin – and the scar across his cheeks. He could see the realization of who he was cross her face. 'Do not worry,' he said gently, 'you are safe now.' She tried to say something, but moving her mouth hurt so much, and she winced, gasping in pain. 'You should not try to speak,' said Nuada. 'I already know what has happened to you.' He tried to stay calm and keep the anger from his voice. He was sure she did not need to witness more of it just now.

'I need to leave you here for a very short while. I will go and retrieve what belongs to you. Will you be alright until I return?' He was worried about leaving her alone, but he had a job to do and a promise to fulfill. She nodded to him, and he lay her down carefully, and she pulled the cloak around her as he stood.

He looked towards the human's dwelling, his eyes the darkest amber as he finally allowed the rage he felt to come to the surface. He walked across the shingle and back up to where the little white cottage sat overlooking the small bay. He could hear the human still shouting and swearing at thin air, full of whichever raw spirit he had been drinking.

Still cloaked in glamour, Nuada entered the little blackhouse. He stepped deftly to one side as a pottery jug flew past his head and hit the wall behind him, showering him in sharp fragments. It was time to give the human a scare, he decided.

'Where is the sealskin?' he asked, still invisible to the man. The human's eyes opened wide in fright at hearing the disembodied voice and looked around with a stupid look on his face. 'Where did you hide it, human?' Nuada asked again. 'Who's that?!' the human cried. 'Who's there?!' He spun round, staggering with dizziness and intoxication, trying to find the source of the voice.

'I am here!' said Nuada, as he removed the glamour and appeared in front of the human, standing before him, tall, pale and fearsome, his eyes dark with rage. The human fell back away from him in shock, knocking over a chair as he went. 'Who are you?! WHAT are you?!' he cried, unable to believe his eyes.

'I am the person you will most definitely come to regret ever meeting,' Nuada snarled, his voice filled with menace. 'Where is the Selkie woman's skin?' he hissed through clenched teeth, his patience all but gone. 'Give it to me and I…MAY…spare your life.'

Unbelievably, the human's expression changed from one of absolute fear to one of derision. 'So you're one o' HER people!' He laughed at Nuada. 'You have no power here, Fey!' he cried. 'Why should I give up my woman to you?' Before he could blink, Nuada was standing right in front of him, and his spear blade was drawn and held against his throat, the keen sharpness of its edge easily felt on his skin. 'Because if you do not, I Will take you apart, piece by piece,' Nuada hissed, his face just inches from the man's.

The human now shook with fear, and he realized that it would probably be a very good idea to comply. 'It's down the well!' he said shakily, 'I hid it in the well.' His eyes were practically popping out of his head now. 'Get it!!!' Nuada growled, his voice low and menacing. 'NOW!!!'

'Move!' The human swallowed hard as Nuada nudged him towards the door, and he carefully went outside to the well, throwing down a long rope that had a hook tied to one end. Once he had snagged what he knew to be there, he hauled it up, huffing and wheezing with the effort. An old sack, dripping and black with slime appeared at the top of the well and fell to the ground with a squelching sound.

'Open it!' Nuada ordered, never taking his eyes off the man. The bag was opened, and the human pulled out a wet, but otherwise unharmed sealskin. Nuada inclined his head in the direction of the house. 'Inside!' he ordered, and the human backed slowly and unsteadily away across the cobbled yard until he was standing just inside the doorway.

Reaching for the sealskin, Nuada took his eyes off the human for a split second. The man moved his hand up to the door lintel and took down a loaded pistol, but he never got to fire it. Nuada had seen the movement. He had drawn a dagger from under his belt and thrown it so fast the human didn't even realize what had happened, until he was standing staring down at his chest from which the hilt was now protruding, shining brightly against the black of his frock-coat.

He raised his eyes to gaze at Nuada, standing motionless for a few moments with a rather confused look on his face, before the pistol dropped from his hand and his knees buckled beneath him. Nuada walked over to the now floored human and stared down at him, a look of vicious pleasure on his face. He bent down and retrieved his dagger, twisting it as he pulled, feeling a rib or two break as the blade came free. He wiped it across the human's clothing to remove the blood and replaced it in his belt.

Putting the sealskin down, he hooked his hands under the man's arms and dragged him across the yard, then heaved him over the stone rim of the well, and let him drop head first into it. There was a loud splash as the body hit the water. Then silence.

Nuada walked back to the house, picking up the sealskin as he went through the door. Inside, it stank of the human's sweat and stale alcohol. He searched the rooms, looking for anything he could use to keep the Selkie woman warm, managing to find some clean blankets and a couple of gowns, gathering them together. He left the house and carried them back down to the Selkie, who was very cold and still looked terrified. She had visibly started when Nuada appeared, probably expecting to see the human.

Putting the blankets down, he lifted the sealskin from the top of the pile and slowly held it out to her. 'I believe this is rightfully yours,' he said gently, trying his best to be calm and quiet so as not to scare her further. Her eyes, though now hardly open at all, displayed her obvious relief at having her only true possession returned after so long…and her heartfelt thanks. She tried to speak again, but Nuada just put a fingertip gently to her lips. 'Shhhh!' he whispered. 'Not a word. Not until you are well enough.'

She glanced in the direction of the house. 'You have no need to fear him now…nor ever again,' said Nuada his eyes flashing with a surge of anger at remembering the foul human's taunts. 'You are free of him. And he will never be able to do this to another of your people.' She nodded gratefully, as tears began to flow down her cheeks.

He took the blankets and wrapped them carefully round her shoulders, trying not to move her too much, in case something was broken. He'd had no choice other than to carry her up here before, but now he wanted to be sure there were no internal injuries.

'Is that any better?' he asked as the last blanket went over her. She nodded gratefully. 'Apart from your face, does anything else hurt?' He tried hard not to show how deeply it was affecting him, seeing her hurt so badly by a human. She nodded again and tried to indicate an area of her back, but she winced and gasped at the pain caused by the movement. 'If I am to move you to a safer place, I need to check your injuries first,' said Nuada gently. 'But if you would rather I did not touch you…I will understand.' His eyes betrayed all he felt. And the Selkie knew she was safe in his hands.

She tried to smile and made it clear he could look, so he very gingerly moved the blankets from the area that ailed her. There was a large bruise and swelling around a couple of her ribs. He gently laid a hand on her skin, and ran his fingers slowly across the area, trying hard not to cause her any more pain. 'I think you have one, maybe two cracked ribs. They are not fully broken, but you will have to be careful when you stand.' She nodded again.

It was starting to get dark and Nuada wanted to get her away from here as soon as possible, and back to a place where he could tend her properly. 'Do you think you can stand with my aid?' he asked, and in answer she offered him her arm to take. He helped her slowly to her feet. 'Just relax and let me guide you,' he said with a kind smile.

She held onto his arm as he put the other round her shoulders, and they left behind the place that had been witness to so much pain and bloodshed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Ayla's Story: Part 2**

It took almost two months for Ayla to fully recover.

Nuada had taken her to where he and Wink had set up one of their temporary encampments. He was very attentive to his new charge, and they learned a lot about one another and their pasts during many hours of talking. Wink was as helpful as he could be, collecting supplies for them and checking their perimeters often.

Nuada spent any spare moments he had during the day when Ayla had fallen asleep in keeping up with his training, bit it wasn't too long before Ayla was up and about and well enough to be able to sit in on some of his sessions. She was totally enthralled in watching their people's greatest warrior and Prince of the Realm as he worked to perfect every detail in his use of spear, sword, or any other weapon he owned. The speed at which he could move when wielding one, or even two swords was astounding, the blades spinning and cutting the air, and he could throw a dagger or hand axe with such accuracy that she felt he could pin a mosquito to a wall without thinking. He even had time to practice his archery skills. He would take his time over this particular exercise. This skill was something he used occasionally, but not often, mostly for taking out an enemy at a distance if no other course was open to him. He preferred to meet an opponent face-to-face.

But her favourite sessions by far where those he undertook to practice his skills with the spear. The power and grace he showed in his movements made it compelling to watch. He was so comfortable with it, so instinctive, that Ayla began to wonder if he had been born with one in his hand.

Another thing that Ayla noticed is the timing of his sessions. As a creature of sea and tide, she felt the cycle of the moon strongly. And it became obvious to her fairly quickly that the full moon had a dramatic effect on him.

As the time of the full moon would approach, his training sessions would become longer and more energetic, and maybe a little fiercer, too. And when he thought she could not see, his eyes lingered on her curves for that much longer than a male's eyes usually did as they passed over a female's body. It was just a moment, but to her it was noticeable.

She was a child of nature, and though she had been through a terrible ordeal at the hands of the human, she was beginning to feel the same urges as the Prince so obviously did. How could she not, she thought to herself, confronted on a daily basis with the sight of a tall, half-naked Elf-warrior whose physique was incomparable to most males she had ever seen.

At these times it was her eyes that lingered, on his back as the muscles flexed and stretched at his every move, at his arms, strong and muscular, and at his chest, glistening with sweat, watching as a drop would move down his well defined torso…..she found it best to quietly slip away so he would not notice her stares. He, of course, would just assume she was tired and needed to lie down.

Yes, they were both very attracted to each other, but neither of them would have made it obvious…if not for a heart-rending misunderstanding.

Again the full moon had come to share her silver caresses with the children of the night. Ayla had been sleeping for a while, but was woken by the sounds of weapons clashing. It was Nuada and Wink having a sparring session. It was good for both of them to practice battling with opponents of such differing physical size and speed. In speed Nuada had the edge, but in sheer brute strength, Wink was formidable.

Ayla crept quietly to a place where she could see and hear without being seen herself, not wanting to disturb them when weapons were being used in this situation. She could hear them talking as they sparred, and they had obviously been discussing her.

'YES, Wink, I know!' Nuada was saying. 'I am MORE than aware how long it has been!' he said, lunging at the troll.

'It would be better for both of us if you did!' Wink had said with a grin.

'And what exactly do you mean by that?' Nuada asked grumpily.

'It is like living with a bad tempered bear!' came the reply, along with a great swipe of troll fist at his head.

'Well, I am terribly sorry if my temper upsets your delicate constitution!' cried Nuada with a look of mock contrition, ducking under another swipe as this time a sword came close to his head.

'Then do something about it!' Wink said dodging the point of Nuada's spear, but failing to move quickly enough from the pommel as it arced up and hit him on the backside. 'OW! There is no need to be so tetchy!' he cried in mock sorrow. 'I am only thinking of your health,' he grinned.

'Really?!' Nuada grinned back, 'I never knew you cared!' He put his hand on his heart and bowed in thanks with a sly grin. He dodged sideways as the sword sliced the air where he had been.

'But why not?' asked Wink. 'You find her pleasing, do you not?'

'Yes, Wink. She is more than pleasing!' Nuada replied twisting himself round and bringing the spear round behind him to his other hand and swinging it round to hit the troll at the back of his knee, causing his leg to buckle.

Wink hit the ground with a huge thud, and in an instant, Nuada had the spear tip at the trolls throat.

'Then why not?' Wink asked. 'I know she finds you JUST as desirable.'

'Indeed?!' Nuada raised his eyebrows incredulously. 'I had no idea you had become an expert in reading the minds of women!' he said, his tone one of amazement. He reached down and took the trolls hand to help him up.

'Haha,' said Wink. 'Very funny.'

Nuada just grinned at him.

'But I ask you again, why not? If you both feel the same attraction?'

'As I said before...there are reasons.' Nuada said, the smile fading, replaced by a look of sad regret. 'How could I, Wink? he said, walking off to put down his spear and wipe the perspiration from his face. 'After what that HUMAN did to her. His filthy hands all over her…'

The look of disgust on his face cut Ayla as well as any knife.

'There is no way I could…' Nuada had no chance to finish his words, as the sounds of a woman's anguished sobs echoed from where Ayla had been hiding, and the sound of her running footsteps as she made for the door to the outside world. He and Wink turned to the sound.

'Ayla!!' called Nuada in alarm. 'Stay here. I will go to her!' he told the troll, and he ran after her, afraid of what she may be thinking. He caught up with her in a clearing in the forest, not far from the long abandoned logging camp they were using as their current shelter. She was standing beneath a large tree that had been given the chance to grow and mature after the humans had left. She had her arms about her and was sobbing as if her heart were broken to pieces.

'Ayla,' said Nuada as gently as possible. 'I am sorry that you had to overhear us like that. We had no idea you were there. If we had we would never have spoken so.' He tried to reach out to her but as soon as his hand touched her arm she pulled it away and spun round to face him.

'Why would you not say that?' she cried out, her expression one of absolute anguish. 'It is what every man will say of me now that I have been 'spoiled' by that human,' she sobbed. 'I am no longer fit for any Fey to even consider speaking to let alone…' she could not say any more for the tightness of her throat cut her off in her despair.

Nuada frowned. 'What…?' he began, but then the realization hit him of what she had thought he meant before. 'Oh Ayla!' he said, angry at himself for not realizing sooner. 'You did not think that I meant…' Tears streamed down Ayla's face. She felt dirty. Useless. 'Ayla!' Nuada reached out and grasped her arms. 'I never meant it like that! You must never, EVER, think of yourself in that way!' He pulled her to him and held her tight in his arms, wishing for all the world that he could turn back time and stop all that had happened to her from ever coming to be.

He held her tight, stroking her hair as her body shook with her weeping, the horror of all that had befallen her released at last. They stood like this for a long time before Ayla had managed to recover herself somewhat, then they moved to sit beneath the tree, Nuada's arm around her shoulders and Ayla's head resting against his chest.

'What you said earlier,' Ayla said quietly, 'that you could never…see us together…in that way…' 'That is NOT what I was going to say, Ayla,' Nuada replied gently. 'It is not that I do not want to…that I do not think about…' He sighed heavily. 'I did not want to approach you in that way…in case it brought back memories of,' he closed his eyes and breathed away the anger in his heart.

'I thought you considered me…ruined,' Ayla said sadly, 'as many others will, when they realize the last man I lay with was with a human and against my will.' 'What happened to you was not your fault, so how can you be considered as anything other than who you are,' Nuada moved his free hand to her cheek and lifted her face so that she looked up at him, 'a beautiful Selkie woman, whom any man would be privileged to know…in any way.'

He slowly leaned forward until his lips hovered no more than a hair's breadth away from hers and closed his eyes as the sensation of soft, warm lips greeted his own in a long, tender kiss that held more emotion than he cared to admit, even to himself. As he pulled back, they each took a deep breath, as each of them fought to control the urges that were taking their bodies, but it was a losing battle.

Nuada's heart pounded in his chest as desire rose in him, his body aching to feel her skin against his own, but he tried hard to hold back until he was sure that Ayla was ready to leave behind all that had happened to her. He did not have to wait long for the confirmation to come.

Nuada was fixated on her lips. They were warm and soft. It had been far too long since he had allowed himself a moment of pleasure with a woman, though the opportunity had been offered by more than one shapely body or pretty face. He ran his fingertips along her bottom lip, slowly, longingly, as the heat rose within him, imagining all the warmth and softness of her body next to him, around him.

Ayla was imagining just the same as his finger traced her mouth, and she wanted nothing more than for him to know exactly how she felt about him. As his finger brushed across her bottom lip once more, she leaned forward…

Nuada felt the sensation of his fingertip sliding slowly between Ayla's lips and he closed his eyes in anticipation, the insinuation of her intent overwhelming him completely. It was one of the most sensuous moments he could ever remember experiencing, his breathing and pulse quickening as she moved her tongue suggestively, eliciting a gasp of pure pleasure. He couldn't hold back much longer, and pulled his hand away from her mouth, replacing it with his own, in a kiss filled with passion and longing, his lips pressing hard on hers, and their tongues moving together as their bodies slid to the floor. His hand travelled slowly down her body, pushing aside the skirts of her dress, and at the same time Ayla's hand slid down his torso, undid the fastenings at his waist, and moved down inside his clothing.

As her hand found its mark Nuada groaned in ecstasy, and the movement of his own hand had across her body elicited a sigh as her desire grew moment by moment. Before long, they had rolled across the forest floor, disrobing each other as they went, and they finally lay together, moving in unison as they joined in consummation of their mutual desire and passion.

They had been gone for quite some time and Wink hadn't heard anything at all from them, and with no sign of their imminent return, he was beginning to wonder if they had come to harm. He decided it was time he went out in search of them and left the logging camp, following their tracks through the forest until he came to the clearing. When he found them they were still locked in each others arms, joined in a long kiss, their pale bodies illuminated by a shaft of silver moonlight that poured down on them through a gap in the leafy forest canopy.

He smiled, turned, and walked away, chuckling. 'And about time too!' he said to himself. He decided to widen the perimeter for the watch that night, to make sure they were not disturbed by anything.

*********

It was time for Ayla to return to her people. Just a week had passed since she and Nuada had shared their first moments of true intimacy, and both were feeling the happiest they had in a very long time. Though it had been brief, and filled with such a variety of emotion, the two short months they had spent together had had an unprecedented effect upon them both.

But the sea was calling her home, and the sad decision to leave was made.

The three of them checked round one last time to make sure that they had left nothing, however small that could tell anyone that they had ever been there at all. Nuada had decided they should move on. He and Wink were not in the habit of staying in one place overlong, even out here in what the humans would call the wilderness, but which he would call one of the 'less frequently' ravaged areas of forest. They had already gone out ahead of time to ensure their next chosen location was still safe enough for them to use, and as that proved to be the case, nothing now stood in the way of them parting company to follow their separate paths.

It was with a heavy heart that Wink and Ayla now stood, the woman's small frame dwarfed by that of the huge troll as they shared a sad goodbye hug. They had become good friends during these past few weeks and were both sad to be parting ways. 'Thank you for all you did for me, my dear friend,' said Ayla, standing on her tip toes to give him a peck on the cheek, 'and look after him for me. I want him 'fighting fit' next time we meet!' she whispered in his ear. Wink chuckled to himself as they stood back from each other, and Nuada gave them a 'What are you two up to?' amused smile.

'I shall meet you there soon, my friend,' Nuada said to Wink as he got ready to go ahead, so that the Prince and Ayla could say their more private goodbyes. He patted his comrade amiably on the arm, and the troll gave Ayla a little wave before closing his one good eye and vanishing, along with the various bags and packs they were taking with them.

This left Ayla and Nuada alone to look round at their soon to be old home for the last time. 'Where is it you wish to go?' asked Nuada. He knew she wouldn't be heading back to the place he had found her. Ever.

'There is a beach I like to visit, one of my favourite places. I shall take you there…so you can find it again, should you desire it,' the Selkie said, her tone at these last words being one of hope. 'Now that is a very good idea,' replied Nuada, with a sad smile.

He stepped forward and took Ayla's free hand, as in the other she held her precious sealskin, ready for her homeward trip. She closed her eyes to concentrate and Nuada gazed at her sadly as she prepared to guide him, closing his eyes only at the first sensations of movement.

A squirrel bolted for the nearest tree as the two figures he had been watching disappeared before his eyes. The breeze moved through the branches, and the forest seemed to sigh sadly as their Fey companions left them for the last time.

*****

On a lonely beach, miles from any human habitation, two figures materialized out of thin air, to be greeted by an overcast sky and a brisk sea breeze. The air was a little chilly, but neither of them cared.

They stood, hand in hand, just looking at one another, putting off the inevitable as long as they could. But though Ayla was happy enough here with the Prince, she now yearned for the feel of the waves of the surf flowing over her sealform once again…to go home.

'It is time you put the hearts and minds of your kin at rest…,' said Nuada quietly. 'They have waited for you long enough.' He smiled sadly as Ayla nodded slowly at the truth of his words. 'I will look for you here, on a warm full-moon night…should you wish for some company,' she said, her tone sad, but the glint in her eye told him she was hoping he would call on her in the future.

He pulled her to him and leaned close to her ear. 'You can depend on it,' he whispered huskily, and he closed his eyes as his lips brushed across her cheek until he found her mouth waiting for his own. They joined in a long kiss that was full of passion, yet gentle and sad too. Pulling slowly away from one another, they stood for a moment in silence…but the quiet was broken by a strange barking sound which came to them from the waves…it was one of Ayla's kinfolk. They had spotted the pair standing on the shore, two Fey together at Ayla's favourite haunt, and their hopeful curiosity was rewarded. Ayla was coming home!

She looked out to sea, her eyes shining with joy at seeing her kin once more. She turned back to Nuada, smiling happily. 'I think it best that you get back to the water, before all your family arrives!' he said smiling back, happy for her. She squeezed his hand tightly, blinking back tears of joy and a little sadness combined. 'Thank you,' she whispered, unable to say more. Nuada said nothing, but lifted her hand and kissed it softly.

Their hands gently parted and Ayla stepped back a pace or two, before turning and walking slowly to the waterline, where she undressed, turning to give Nuada a cheeky smile as he took one last look at her shapely form, chuckling to himself at her naughtiness. She slowly stepped into the cold waters and kept walking, the surf slowly swallowing her pale form. Nuada watched as her head ducked beneath the waves…quickly replaced by the rather cute round face of a seal, its large brown eyes on him as he raised his hand in farewell. With a lot of joyous calling to one another, Ayla and her kin bobbed out into the current…and disappeared from view.

Nuada stood alone on the sand, watching the waves for a few minutes.

'I will see you again, Ayla of the Sea,' he said to himself with a naughty smile. And with that he closed his eyes and vanished, travelling to where Wink was waiting. _'I wonder how many times I shall have to hear 'I told you so,' _he thought to himself.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Dawn Shadows**

Nuada woke as the first blush of dawn coloured the sky a delicate shade of pink, which was reflected in wisps of light cloud. The moon had only just disappeared below the horizon.

Ayla was still close against him, his arms around her, her head resting on his shoulder. She was sound asleep. At first he didn't want to wake her as she looked so lovely in the pale pink half-light that gave her skin the appearance of being as smooth and soft as a rose petal.

He could feel the curves of her body against his own, the warmth of her breath on his skin. The recollection of the night they had spent together played in his mind and a desire to experience that same pleasure again enlivened his body and mind.

He did try, though, to move without disturbing her, to think of something else so that he could get up quietly and leave her to rest a little longer, but as he moved his arm she stirred, sighing deeply and brushing her hand across his abdomen. This did nothing to help. He lifted his head as she awoke, large brown eyes blinking away the heaviness of sleep that tried to regain control of her eyelids. As she focused on the golden eyes that looked back at her, a contented smile formed on her rosy lips.

'Good morning, Sire,' she said sleepily as she yawned and stretched, moving her hand again. Nuada's head fell back to the sand again and he closed his eyes with a sigh, trying to regain the resolve which he was quickly losing. 'We should get up. We need to leave before all of Bethmoora wakes too,' he said softly. 'Really?' said Ayla in mild surprise. 'Not even a 'good morning' kiss?' She was back to her usual mischievous self, it seemed.

Nuada sighed in defeat. Somehow he didn't think she'd let him get away that easily. He'd never managed to before either. Of course he didn't actually want to get away. He lifted his head again as Ayla pulled herself up a little so she was properly face to face with him. She leaned forward until their lips met in a long, soft kiss.

As they parted, he sighed heavily as the last of his resolve trickled away. 'Good morning, Ayla of the Sea,' he said with a resigned but happy smile. 'You know,' she said naughtily as she lifted the cloak which covered them so she could peek beneath, 'it may well be!'

'Do you never tire, woman?!' he cried in lamenting tone, falling back once more as if exhausted. 'Oh no, Sire, we Selkie women are totally insatiable,' she giggled. 'It is the stuff of legend, you know!' she said as she began to slowly slide her hand down his torso once more. 'By the Gods!' he exclaimed, 'you are indeed legendary!' He reached up and pulled her face down to his, kissing her passionately…

*****

It was still dark within the halls of Bethmoora as Sciana quietly stood up and left the room in which her friend Naeva was sleeping. As she carefully closed the door behind her and turned to walk down the corridor, she almost jumped out of her skin as a figure appeared in front of her, looming out of the darkness.

But it was only Nuala, who had just woken and decided to check on Naeva herself. She was also startled by the sudden appearance of Sciana, and their joint gasps and wide-eyed expressions caused each to giggle in amusement, hands over their mouths trying to quieten themselves.

'My Lady!' said Sciana bowing. 'Oh, dear Sciana, I am so sorry for making you jump!' said Nuala, trying not to giggle so loudly. 'Me too!' 'How is Naeva now?' she asked. She had been informed of the sacrifice made by the human woman and of the poisoning, but was not actually fully acquainted with all the details. 'Ecris and Oacma have only told me so much, and I know there is more,' she said to her friend with a slightly exasperated expression. 'I know they do not wish me to worry, but I am, I think, back to full health, and I need to be aware of all that has occurred.'

'Very well, My Lady,' Sciana replied with a sigh. She knew the Princess trusted her, or she wouldn't have asked. 'We should go somewhere we will not be overheard,' she said as quietly as possible. 'It may not be safe to speak openly, even here.' 'Indeed.' Said Nuala in agreement. 'Come to my room, then. We should not be disturbed there for a while yet.'

Before closing the door to her room, they checked the corridor carefully, looking for signs of movement in the shadows and listening for any sound at all. When all was deemed to be satisfactory, they closed the door as quietly as they could and moved close to the fire, seating themselves on the chairs beside it.

'How much have they told you so far, My Lady?' asked Sciana, tilting her head in askance. 'Oh, Sciana. We are alone now!' said the Princess smiling at her friend warmly. 'Nuala,' said Sciana with a grin.

The Princess then related all she had been told, which was not even as much as Sciana had assumed they would have disclosed. She sighed as she realized she was probably going to get into trouble for telling the Princess all she knew.

'The shapeshifter. Who was he…replacing?' Nuala asked nervously, her expression one of apprehension. She hardly dared to think who it may be, who they had lost this time. They had lost so many of their number and it did not get any easier to hear when another had fallen to darkness. Sciana's gaze dropped to her hands, which were fidgeting in her lap, her knuckles now becoming white as she gripped the fabric of her skirts. 'It was…Maiyor,' she replied quietly.

Nuala's eyes widened in shock, but her expression quickly changed to one of sad realization. 'Oh! Sciana…' she whispered, reaching over to the other woman's hand. 'I…I am so sorry.' Tears began to well in her now sorrowful golden eyes. She was well aware that she may be the only person at Court who knew that Sciana and Maiyor had formed a bond, had in fact fallen in love and had been planning to announce their intention to wed.

'Why did you not say something to me before now?' she asked quietly. 'You should not have to bear such sorrow alone.' Swallowing hard so she could speak, Sciana looked up to face Nuala with tear-misted eyes. 'There are truly dire things happening to us all at this time. I did not want to make it any worse by relating the true depth of our feelings. No-one needs another reason to feel the loss of hope,' she said sorrowfully. 'I will do all I can to help your brother to hunt down his murderer, so that he can harm no-one else. So that Maiyor did not die in vain.'

She put a hand over her trembling lips. She would not cry now. She would only allow the tears to come again after the one who had taken away her true love and best friend was lying dead at the Prince's feet. Sciana took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to regain her composure.

'There are other things you should know of the last day or two, Nuala,' she said, deliberately changing the subject. Nuala knew her friend well, knew how she would prefer to deal with this terrible loss, so respected her need to leave this for the time being. She simply nodded so that her friend could continue.

'Has Ecris spoken to you about how Naeva was saved after she was poisoned?' Sciana asked, though she doubted he had. She knew Nuala should know everything in detail. 'I assume she was given an antidote, one of Ecris's more powerful draughts,' said Nuala with a slight shrug, not really expecting anything more.

'Partly, you are correct. But there was…a little more to it than that,' said Sciana. Nuala frowned, not knowing where this may be leading. She could not imagine what it was that made Sciana look at her with such a strange expression.

'There was an…extra ingredient to the antidote.....Elf blood.' Nuala's eyes widened at this and she gasped loudly. She knew it must have been a big decision to use such a precious and powerful substance. 'But what did my brother say?' she asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. 'He is hardly fond of humans!' This was indeed an unexpected development.

'It was he who gave the blood to be used,' said Sciana, still surprised herself at this turn of events. Nuala sat with her mouth open in astonishment. 'Nuada did this? For a human?' She shook her head in disbelief. 'He did. But there is more.' 'More?' Nuala was beginning to realize that Ecris had indeed been VERY careful not to upset her in any way. 'What else could there be?'

Sciana's expression reflected a measure of the awe which she felt on hearing Naeva's words, as she related the whole prophetic event. Nuala was dumbfounded. 'Elfaneen?...' she gasped, 'and prophecy?' She thought about the wording of the revelation, and was exceedingly disturbed.

'The shadow following…is Bres?' she asked nervously, hoping she was mistaken. 'That is what we all believe it to mean,' replied Sciana with a small nod. 'Then…Nuada will have to face him…alone?'

Nuala was suddenly very afraid for her brother. Bres had shown himself to be ruthless beyond even Nuada's own thirst for vengeance when he was still held in the grip of his hatred of mankind and his desire to awaken the Golden Army. She knew he was more than capable of handling Bres one-to-one, he was their finest warrior after all - but Bres was not exactly renowned for his fairness in dealing with anyone, or in any situation.

She sighed heavily as she turned to stare into the fires orange flames, remembering all that had happened in the Golden Army chamber, how she had hated what Nuada had become in his quest for the lost crown piece. She had felt his despair echoing deep in the abyss of his mind, the sorrow that welled even stronger in him as his final moments drew nearer. But it was the hatred that burned fiercest in him then. And that is why she finally found the strength within herself to sever their connection at the last. As she had fallen into darkness, she was enveloped in the tenderness of Abraham's feelings for her, and fleeting though they were, there was no doubting the sincerity of them.

But now…she had been able to read her brother like any other individual, to sense him as a completely separate entity rather than as an extension of her. To take in all that he was without her own thoughts and emotions getting in the way. And what she now saw, after all this time, was a lonely, lost soul, desperate to return the world to the beautiful and majestic state it had once held, to feel the same bond with the natural world that he had felt as a child, and to see his people living their lives in happiness instead of in the filth of human ignorance.

She was now afraid for him, more than she had ever been afraid of him.

*****

There was no doubting now that sunrise was not far off. Nuada and Ayla lay cuddled up together under the cloak, not really wanting to get up, but it was time. They had to return to Bethmoora.

'Come,' said Nuada, his tone one of regret, 'we can put it off no longer. It is time for us to prepare to leave.' Ayla sighed sadly. 'You are right,' she said. Nuada bent his head down and kissed her gently. 'Thankyou,' he said quietly. In his golden eyes, Ayla could see that he was more grateful for her company and non-judgemental acceptance of him than that one small word could express. 'You do not need to thank me for sharing a full moon night with you,' she said. 'I would like to think there will be many more.'

She smiled up at him, trying not to allow the sadness that grew within her to show. She had a feeling, deep down, that this had in fact been the last night they would spend together as lovers.

Before she could think more on it, Nuada had sat up, and she got to her feet and ran to the water's edge, where she splashed headlong into the waves. She disappeared for a few moments, then re-emerged, dripping wet, and with a happy smile on her face. 'Now I feel I am truly awake!' she cried as she returned to their sandy 'bed'.

As Ayla covered herself with the cloak and used it to quickly dry off, Nuada reached over and opened his pack, pulling out the emerald green gown that was stowed at the bottom of the bag. He stood, unfolded it, and held it out to Ayla. 'I think you may need this if we are to enter Bethmoora without causing a stir!' he said with a rather naughty grin. 'Why, thank you, Sire!' she laughed, taking the gown and holding it against her. 'An almost perfect fit,' she said.

As she put on the gown, Nuada dressed himself too. Taking up the silver comb, he gently ran it through Ayla's hair to remove the damp tangles, and when he was finished she turned to face him. 'Perfect,' he said, admiring her stark beauty. 'But for a while, I need you to be a little less Selkie and a little more Elf.' Selkies could choose to look human, Elfin, or any other race if they so desired. 'If you are to walk amongst the rest of the inhabitants without standing out, you will have to assume the identity of a displaced Elf woman. I will make sure a rumour is circulated giving you a cover story that will not arouse too much suspicion.'

'Very well,' said Ayla. She stood before him and closed her eyes, and as he watched, her skin took on the paleness of an Elf's, and her brown hair became white-blonde with golden tips. The transformation was completed as she opened her eyes, now a bright yellow-gold instead of their usual rich brown.

'My, my!' exclaimed Nuada. 'You make an exceedingly beautiful Elf woman,' he said, taking her now even paler hand and kissing it, a twinkle in his eye as he looked her up and down appreciatively. 'Why, thank you, Sire,' she said, smiling as demurely as she could, though in present company, she found it rather hard to accomplish.

Nuada sighed as the time had finally come to leave behind their night together and to begin the task ahead of them. He picked up Ayla's sealskin, which still lay with the cloak on the sand. 'I shall take this back with me so that no-one sees it,' he said pushing it carefully in his bag where the gown had previously lain. 'We do not want to give the game away before it has truly begun. And keep yourself well hidden until I return,' he told her with a serious expression. He did not want her coming to any harm whilst he was away. 'I shall not be overly long.'

The remainder of his things were packed away, and he stood before Ayla once more, taking in her new appearance. 'Ayla of the Sea,' he said gently, 'we shall all be in your debt for this, though most will be none-the-wiser of it.' He lifted his hand to her cheek. 'But I shall never forget…' He leaned forward and kissed her gently, not wanting it to end, but finally pulling away, a slightly sad look in his eyes. 'I await your return, Sire,' said Ayla with a small bow, the same sadness mirrored in her own eyes.

Nuada picked up his pack and spear and walked to the water's edge, turning to look back at Ayla once more. She looked so beautiful in the early morning light. But he had to think now of where he wished to go. He closed his eyes and focused on the image of the smaller entrance to Bethmoora.

As Ayla watched, Nuada vanished as he travelled to the palace over the sea, leaving her standing in the half-light with a sea breeze ruffling her gown and a tear slowly rolling down her cheek.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**A Tale Of The Unexpected**

Nuada felt solid ground beneath his feet and opened his eyes. He was now standing in front of the entrance into Bethmoora that he most used. It was still very quiet, the calm of early morning before the usual hustle and bustle of the day began. He walked through the portal and entered the palace.

Keeping to the shadows, making no sound as he moved, he made his way back to the rooms where Ecris and the others were to be found, staying perfectly still in the darkness if he came across an early-risen Elf, who would never realize he was there.

He first returned to his own room, so he could dress more appropriately and put away his pack. Sitting on his bed, he took off his boots and shook out any sand that had got in, then stood again to make sure his clothing was also sand free, brushing down his shirt and trousers to remove any last grains.

He ran his fingers through his hair which was slightly damp from the sea spray he had been covered in before he left the beach and Ayla. He could feel sand there too, so he leaned forward and ruffled his long hair to get it out as best he could before running his comb through it. That would just have to do, he decided at last. He didn't have time to be more thorough.

Sitting again, he replaced his boots, and donned his black armour once more. Finally he put on his red sash and seal and sheathed his spear blade on his back.

His personal preparations complete, it was, he decided, time to bring Ayla to Bethmoora for the first time in her life.

*****

Putting his pack well out of sight, he left his room and went to see Ecris.

The Mage was sitting next to Naeva's bed, smiling and talking happily to his now wide-awake patient, and Oacma was there too, standing near the fire, listening to their conversation.

They all turned to see who was coming in as Nuada entered, and Ecris stood and bowed, a very relieved expression on his face, Oacma also bowing low. 'Sire!' Ecris exclaimed. 'Thank the Gods you are safe. I could not help but worry.' He let out a very relieved sigh.

'All is well, my friend,' said Nuada smiling. 'Has all been quiet here?' he asked, hoping that no-one had noticed his departure or his absence. 'Yes, Sire', replied Ecris. 'I am pleased to report that no-one is aware of the night's proceedings.' 'Good,' said Nuada, happy that at least one night had passed without incident.

'My acquaintance has agreed to help us and is waiting for me to fetch her,' he continued. 'We now need to create a persona for her, something that will account for her arrival here, and I suppose our first consideration must be to assign her a clan. Where shall we say she originated from?'

The three Elves thought about it for a while, trying to remember everything each of them had heard regarding the remnants of the other clans that still managed to survive. An idea came to Nuada. 'What is known of the clan of Airgeslan?' he asked. 'In all my time in exile, I have never met anyone who claimed to be of their bloodline.'

Ecris considered it carefully. 'I know only that their clan home was destroyed in the wars, and that the humans subsequently removed most of the silver that could be mined there.' He frowned. 'It held some of the best ore that was suitable for making weapons. It was a grave loss to us.'

Indeed, Nuada knew how much of a loss it would have been. Elven bladed weapons were far superior to the iron and steel used by the humans, though he had to admit some of the blades he had encountered that had originated in the area the humans called East Asia were rather good. He had even owned one of the best examples for a while.

'Very well,' he agreed. 'We have a clan. Now, what reason shall we give for her arrival here?' 'Well, Sire,' said Oacma. 'Perhaps she could be here to ask for aid in returning to her clan home, to see if anything significant remains of the ore, deeper underground than the humans could mine. She could be here to offer any left to you as our new leader, as she heard you wanted to declare war.' That notion was now, of course, null and void without the Golden Army, but no-one outside of Bethmoora would be aware of this at present.

'Thank you, Oacma,' said Nuada. 'This will have to do. We have no more time to deliberate. We shall say that a private message was passed to us via one of the returnees, that she has requested a meeting to discuss this.'

'Ecris, there is one more thing. We have no seal for her to wear. Is there a mark for this clan that she can assume?' Nuada had to cover every angle. They had to be as convincing as possible. 'Let me see,' said the Mage as he thought back to the last time he had seen it. 'Ah, yes, I do recall a small mark. She should have the sign of the waxing crescent moon, on her right temple.' 'Very good,' said Nuada, the last detail in place. 'The sign of the Moon,' he said to himself with a cheeky smile, 'how very apt.'

He turned to Oacma. 'I would like you to come with me to fetch her,' he instructed. 'We need to make it appear as official as possible, and it would not appear 'seemly' for me to go alone.' He rolled his eyes at the need for protocol to be followed, but to keep the Chamberlain and his cronies off his back, he had better be seen to do things 'properly'. He was not looking forward to the return of these particular individuals at all.

'Sire,' said Oacma, bowing.

'Ecris, we shall return presently. You should organize a welcome that you consider fitting for the last known Elf of Clan Airgeslan. I shall, of course, be using the main entrance this time.'

Through all this discussion, one person in the room had remained totally silent and still, but had taken in all that had been said. It was only when she moved slightly in the bed that the Elves remembered she was there.

Her green eyes had been transfixed by the sight of Nuada from the moment he had entered the room. She was used to being in the company of Elves, having been with them for so long, but she just could not help staring. All the Elves had a strength and grace that was absent in humans, but the Prince…she couldn't find a word for it, but he had…something more.

She was still staring at him when he turned on hearing her move. Their eyes met…and it was like a jolt of electricity hitting them both simultaneously. Both pairs of eyes opened wide with the shock, but the most surprised of the two was Naeva. She saw Nuada visibly start as their eyes locked.

Her face burned as she blushed, and she had to shift her gaze. But though he tried not to show it, Nuada was totally unprepared for the effect that looking into those warm green eyes again had on him. His heart missed a beat and he had to inhale deeply to counteract the slight disorientation he suddenly felt. Thankfully, Ecris turned to Naeva and spoke to her, breaking through the sensations they both felt. 'Naeva, I am so sorry!' he exclaimed apologetically.

Nuada looked at Ecris and back to Naeva. They hadn't given her presence any thought at all when discussing Ayla's imminent arrival. Ecris saw the slight frown on the Prince's face and realized that although he and the other members of the Court had had a long time in which to build a mutual trust with the human, Nuada had not even spoken to her himself.

'Sire,' he began, 'please do not worry that Naeva has heard our discussion. I trust her with my life.' Nuada regarded her again, thankfully with none of the previous effects. He hardly knew what to think. Naeva slowly looked up at him again. Besides what had just passed between them, she was still immensely nervous to be in the presence of the Elven Prince who so hated humans that he had been prepared to wipe them from the face of the planet.

She had been aware enough to understand that he had himself donated the blood which saved her life, and that it had ultimately been his decision to allow the antidote to have been prepared at all – especially considering the extraordinary side-effect.

And now, she was aware enough to realize that he needed a sign that he had made the right decision in allowing her to continue her life in their midst.

She slowly sat herself up on the bed and pushed the covers off. 'Naeva!' said Ecris moving to her side. 'You are still weak. You must rest until you are fully recovered.' 'I will rest, Ecris,' she replied, 'but first there is something I must do. Please, help me up,' she said determinedly.

Nuada watched, wondering what she could possibly need to do.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand, but she was obviously too weak to manage on her own. She looked up at Ecris and held out her arm so he could help her, which he grudgingly did. Once on her feet, she leaned on his arm and walked slowly towards the Prince, who was now quite bewildered. She stopped and began to lower herself so she could kneel on one knee before him, the skirts of her borrowed gown cast out around her like a crimson pool of silk on the floor.

Now it was obvious what she felt she needed to do, and Nuada was totally shocked. He looked at Ecris, who just gave a little smile. Naeva, now kneeling before him chose her words and began to speak.

'Sire, I know I was not born of your race…' the regret in her voice was plain to hear, '…but I have had the honour to be welcomed into your realm and have been shown more love and kindness than I had ever dreamed still existed in this world…' her bottom lip began to tremble as emotion tried to overwhelm her, but she managed to control it quickly so she could continue.

'My heart is filled to overflowing with love for our…your people…' Nuada could not fail to notice the choice of words, '…and I would never do or say anything that would cause harm to come to any of them.

In the past I knelt before your father and swore an oath of loyalty to him, and to all who inhabit the Unseen Realm. But now, the King is gone, and a new oath should be taken, so that you can rest assured that I am yours to command.'

She placed her hand on her heart, pale against the crimson of her gown, and lifted her gaze to the Prince once more.

'On this day, and before these witnesses, I hereby swear to you, Prince Nuada, Silverlance of Bethmoora, as the true and rightful leader of the Children of the Earth, that my loyalty is now, and always shall be yours. May I always be granted the opportunity to serve you, for a long as my life endures.'

Nuada was taken aback by this, the first true oath of allegiance to be sworn to him as leader. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever have imagined it would be made by a human!

He stared down at the woman kneeling before him, the woman who had been willing to die so that he could live. So that ALL his people could live. He thought about how much he actually owed to her. It really did not make any difference that she was human. She had already proven herself.

'Please, stand up,' he said to her at last.

Ecris helped her to her feet so she stood before him, looking nervous, but with her head up, looking directly into his eyes again. She was determined to hold his gaze this time. He needed to know she meant every word she had said.

'I will accept your Oath of Allegiance…' he began, also holding her gaze, '…on one condition.' She felt more nervous than ever at hearing these words. 'Sire?' she asked, trembling slightly as the tension built within her. Nuada reached out and took her hand, much to the utter amazement of all there. 'You must accept my thanks for what you have done for my people…for me…' and now suddenly, he made a decision that surprised even himself, '...and you must also accept my promise to protect you whilst you reside with us, whether it be at Bethmoora or elsewhere.'

Ecris and Oacma were astounded by this gesture and looked at one another, wide-eyed. Naeva was more than astounded. She had been expecting him to insist she be kept somewhere far away from him and everyone else so he could be sure she could speak to no-one of what she had witnessed. 'Th-thank you,' she stammered. 'I humbly accept your thanks…and protection.'

'Good.' Said Nuada simply. He didn't even know himself why he had felt the need to make such a gesture. Naeva bowed to him in thanks. They stood for a few moments before Nuada realized he was still holding her hand. He bowed slightly to her and released it, suddenly feeling strangely awkward as he gazed into her eyes. He took a deep breath and with some effort, tore his gaze away from Naeva's own.

He had something to do and had to focus his attention on it now.

'Oacma, we should leave now to bring Ayla back. She has waited long enough, and we need her to begin her task.' He bowed and moved to Nuada's side. 'Be sure to let yourselves be seen leaving by the main entrance and I shall gather the appropriate welcoming party,' said Ecris, 'and again, please take care, Sire,' he said. Nuada knew Ecris would worry, regardless of what he said and smiled kindly. 'Do not worry, my friend. We shall be careful.'

Ecris bowed slightly to the Prince, not able to do so properly as he still held Naeva's arm. Nuada glanced at her, and she too bowed as best she could. He nodded to her in acknowledgement.

Turning on his heel, he strode from the room, Oacma behind him, leaving a dumbfounded Elf and Human looking at each other wide-eyed and smiling.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

A Clan Of One

Nuada and Oacma strode deliberately through the corridors and halls, making sure that anyone they encountered saw them, and as such had to acknowledge their leader by bowing as he passed, Nuada nodding politely to each of them.

They made their way to the main entrance, and as they reached a certain point inside the final tunnel, the great stone giant raised himself so they could exit through the portal in his belly. As they stepped out, they were greeted by the sound of a hawk soaring high above, calling to his mate as he hunted for his next meal. Nuada looked up and watched him for a short while, imagining being up there, free to follow the breeze.

The weight of responsibility became suddenly almost a real physical sensation as he realized that having that same freedom to roam as he pleased, that he had taken for granted during his exile, was no-more. Though he had longed, deep down, to return to his clan, to feel that sense of belonging once more, now that this freedom was no longer an option, he suddenly craved it. He took a deep breath, fighting the feeling down.

He walked on up to the crest of a nearby ridge so he had an uninterrupted view out to sea, Oacma a couple of paces behind. As Oacma did not know where they were going, he would have to rely on the Prince to guide him there. Elves were a quite tactile race, probably in part due to their means of travelling as guide and 'passenger'. It became a matter of necessity to put aside social status in these circumstances. As such, Nuada held his arm out to Oacma, who took hold of his wrist as the Prince visualized the beach.

As they materialized on the sand, just above the high tide mark, Oacma released Nuada's arm, and they both quickly scanned the area, their instincts always to be vigilant to possible threats, and there was a far greater need for it now than possibly ever before.

A movement to one side of them caught Nuada's eye. He knew Ayla would be there waiting, but his hand still moved instinctively to the hilt of his spear blade. It wasn't until she showed herself fully that he relaxed and lowered his arm. She walked over to them and bowed to the Prince, who took her hand.

'I am sorry I took so long to return,' he said apologetically, casting his eyes over her again, trying to get used to her new appearance, '…but there was an unexpected…development,' he said, still rather taken aback by the situation. 'Sire,' she replied, a worried frown on her face. 'It seems that my wait may have been quite fortuitous, in a manner of speaking.' Nuada frowned at seeing her expression. 'What is it?' he asked in concern. 'Did something happen while I was away?'

'It did, Sire, and it worried me greatly,' she replied. 'I was visited by one of my kin, and she brought me news that caused me great concern.' Nuada knew that Ayla was not in the habit of over dramatizing a situation, and as such he began to feel real apprehension at her tone. 'Sire, I think we should leave for Bethmoora immediately. I shall explain fully when we are within its walls, for I fear it possible that we may be observed if we stay here too long.

'Very well, Ayla. I trust your judgement, as always,' he said nodding. 'This is Oacma,' he said turning so he could introduce his companion. 'I trust him as I trust you.' Oacma bowed to Ayla, feeling rather good at having the Prince speak so of him. 'And this is Ayla, the Matriarch of her clan, and someone I consider to be a true friend,' he said, as Ayla bowed slightly to Oacma with a little smile.

Nuada's eyes scanned the shore and the vast expanse of grey water for anything that seemed out of place, but thankfully saw nothing. He turned back to Ayla once more. 'There is one detail we must ensure is in place before we leave.' Reaching up, he brushed Ayla's hair back to reveal the smooth, pale skin of her right temple. 'You need to acquire the mark of Clan Airgeslan,' he instructed, 'a waxing crescent moon, just here,' he said indicating a spot on her skin with his fingertip.

He and Oacma watched as she closed her eyes for a moment to concentrate, and within moments, the required scar-mark appeared indenting her white flesh. Opening her eyes, she looked to Nuada for confirmation that it was as needed. 'Perfect,' he said. 'Now, we must leave. Oacma, I shall guide Ayla for this journey.'

Oacma nodded, and they all stood together, Ayla still holding Nuada's hand, and they left behind the rugged shoreline, for it to be replaced very shortly by the open moor land at the entrance to Bethmoora…and Ecris's welcoming party.

Ecris walked forward as the returnees appeared, and bowed to the Prince. 'This is Ayla, last known survivor of Clan Airgeslan,' said Nuada, so that all could hear. 'She is to be shown all the courtesy appropriate to one who comes to us as an envoy of her clan.' He looked to her sadly. 'My only regret is that there are no-more of your clan to whom we can show the same courtesy.' He bowed to her in acknowledgement of her enforced status.

'Ayla bowed low to the Prince. 'Sire, I thank you for your kindness. I can only hope that one day we shall find others of my kin, so that they too can come to know our new leader as I have. We are lucky indeed to have someone so gracious and understanding to lead us through these troubled times.' Nuada knew these were Ayla's own sentiments, and as such they meant an awful lot to him. He lifted her hand and kissed it, the sincerity of her words touching him greatly.

'Sire,' said Ecris, 'we have a room prepared for our esteemed guest and food is ready to be brought to you both as soon as you require it.' 'Thank you, Ecris,' Nuada replied. 'Please show Ayla to her room. I shall be along directly.' 'Sire.' Ecris bowed once more and after Ayla too bowed to the Prince, he took her to her room, followed by the others who made up the welcoming party, leaving Nuada and Oacma alone for a moment.

'I will go to Ayla presently, to ensure she knows all she needs of her assumed clan. If you could ask my sister to join us, I shall have Ecris do the same. I think it best that we are all together to hear what Ayla has to say.' 'Very good, Sire,' said Oacma. 'I shall go at once.' He bowed and left quickly to do as he was asked.

Nuada stood alone outside the grand entrance to Bethmoora. The only sounds to be heard were the whisper of the sea breeze as it moved across the landscape, causing strangely fluid ripples to undulate in the longer grasses, and the far off crashing of waves as they hit the rocky cliffs of the shoreline.

A sense of foreboding crept over him. Though no-one was visible to him, he could not shake off the feeling that he was being watched. His eyes narrowed at the thought of it, and, after glancing round one more time, he too entered the relative safety of Bethmoora.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**The Arachmor**

Nuada made his way to the rooms, and seeing Ecris in the corridor, he asked him to come to Ayla's room in a short while.

She had been given the next room along from Nuada's. Now he had a human and a Selkie as his neighbours. He was really beginning to realize just how far-reaching the repercussions of his actions could be. Before he went to Ayla, he fetched his pack from his own room.

He knocked on her door and she opened it very quickly, obviously waiting for him. He entered the room, and Ayla shut the door behind him. The room was in almost every way the same as his own. She was pacing the floor nervously, the anxiety plain to see.

'Ayla,' he said, taking hold of her arm gently as she was about to walk past him. 'It is alright. Here,' he said offering her the pack. She looked up at him with a clearly relieved expression and took the bag, opening it and removing the sealskin that was tucked away at the bottom. She clasped it to her chest with both hands, closed her eyes and sighed deeply as she began to calm down.

Nuada put his arms around her and kissed her forehead gently. 'I am sorry it took so long to return it.' He released her and took a step back. 'Thank you, Sire,' she said gratefully, with a little smile. She moved to the chest which had been given to her and placed the skin carefully inside. 'I am sorry for panicking,' she said sheepishly, looking at Nuada with a slightly embarrassed expression. 'You do not need to apologize Ayla!' he replied, shaking his head. 'You know you are free to leave at any time. No-one will treat you like that again.' Ayla smiled gratefully at him. 'It is alright, Sire,' she said, calming down considerably. 'I know.' He nodded and gave her a kind smile.

There was a knock on the door, so Ayla opened it again, to find Ecris and Oacma standing there holding trays of food for them both. They came in and put the food down, bowing to Nuada as they were free to do so. 'The Princess is just behind us, with Sciana…and Naeva,' said Ecris. Nuada's expression showed clearly that he was unsure of the reasoning behind this, but Ecris carried on before he could say anything.

'The Princess insisted,' he said, slightly apologetically. 'Indeed, I did,' said Nuala, just appearing in the doorway with Sciana – helping Naeva to walk, a little slowly, but much surer on her feet than earlier, after having insisted it was time to get herself mobile. She wanted to put the whole poisoning incident behind her as soon as possible so she could be of some use to them all again.

She looked up and smiled at Ecris and Oacma, then at Ayla, who smiled back at her, though the surprise at seeing a human in their company was quite plain for Naeva to see. And then her eyes met Nuada's once again... There was that jolt, like electricity, bursting through each of them, though they both tried hard not to show it, to each other or the rest of them.

But Ayla noticed. She saw the subtle changes in Nuada's eyes, as they seemed to flash brighter for just a moment, and a strange expression that was so fleeting it would usually go unnoticed. But she had spent hours upon hours studying his every movement and expression as he talked to her or trained, during their two months together. She said nothing, but decided that it would be interesting to watch the interactions between them in the future. Naeva gave a little bow, as she was being supported, and Sciana nodded as respectfully as she could, then she and Nuala helped Naeva down onto the nearest chair.

Everyone was now here, so the door was closed behind them, and Oacma moved to stand before it in case there was a knock, but also to listen to the sounds of people that may go by – or that may stop to listen. The tension below the surface of all situations would be palpable until Ayla had been in contact with everyone in the palace and given the all-clear – or not, as the case may be.

After all introductions were made, Ayla and Nuada were made to sit and eat something, as everyone else had already eaten. They finished their meal as the others talked about smaller matters concerning the day-to-day affairs of moving the courtiers into the palace. Nuada listened to all that was said, and watched as Nuala took control of these more domestic concerns. He knew it would be most sensible, and much more appealing, to let Nuala keep to her usual duties, the ones she undertook for their father. They would have to discuss it soon.

When the meal was finished, Nuada asked Ayla to tell them her news, and everyone turned to her, anxious to hear.

'Whilst awaiting your return,' she began, looking to Nuada, '…one of my clan came to visit me, as I had already told them where I could be found should I not return to them for the night. She brought an urgent message that is causing me more and more concern as I consider it longer.' She frowned.

'There was a sighting last night of an Arachmor, moving through the waters close to our home. We have not seen one in this area for an exceedingly long time, so its appearance now seems a little too coincidental for my liking,' she said, her eyes narrowing. 'Because it is such a rare occurrence, one of my kin decided to follow its course, curious to know why it was there. He stayed well back and hidden from view, so as not to be noticed, and managed to keep on its tail for some time, right up until it stopped to call into a secluded rocky cove on one of the smaller islands left unoccupied by the humans. He was able to stay out of sight and view what happened there. The Arachmor was met by a cloaked figure, a Fey, and it was obviously there to pass on a message of some kind, as the Fey merely nodded before vanishing.'

Nuada's expression was darkening as he took in each new part of the story. He truly did not like where this appeared to be heading, a feeling which was shared by all the others as they listened.

'The Arachmor set off again, but did not return the way he had come,' Ayla continued. 'My kinsman followed as best he could, but the serpent was too fast and he lost track of it, but he was able to get a good idea of the beast's course…it was heading south-west…towards Bethmoora.'

Worried glances shot from one face to another at these last words, and all eyes settled on the person who would ultimately have to decide how to act on this new information. Nuada's expression was one of brooding menace, and everyone knew what he was probably thinking. 'The cloaked figure,' he said, his tone overly calm. 'Was your kinsman able to give you any description that could help us in identifying the individual?' he asked, expecting it to be the same answer he always seemed to get nowadays.

'Not much, I am afraid, just that he appeared to be of Elfkind…' Nuada had expected as much. Ayla continued, '…but I do not think it was who you first thought, Sire…' Nuada frowned and his eyes shot to Ayla's own in surprise. '…for this man was younger than yourself, Sire, and bore no visible mark on his face.' Ayla looked truly worried as she beheld the look in Nuada's eyes. She had seen it before and knew what it would mean for this younger man if they ever came to meet.

'Another traitor!' he hissed, his rage seething beneath the surface as he fought to keep it in check. 'It seems we may have found three links in the chain of information that leads back to our dear uncle!' he said quietly. 'That is, if it was our now departed shapeshifter friend that the Arachmor was coming here to see – and not another, still hidden within our midst,' he observed, his eyes dark with suppressed anger.

He turned to Oacma. 'Do you have…four people you could ask to set up a twenty-four-hour watch over the coastline here?' he asked, his eyes narrowing as he thought. Oacma considered for a moment before answering. 'Yes, Sire, I can think of four I would trust…would you like me to bring them here, so that Ayla can…'meet' them, before we entrust them with anything?' 'I would, yes,' Nuada replied. 'We have to start somewhere, and as we here have all been cleared, these four may as well be the first to be vetted.'

'I shall go now to gather them together, if it pleases you, Sire?' said Oacma. 'Thank you, Oacma,' said Nuada nodding in agreement. 'The sooner we start with this, the happier I shall be,' he said, frowning with concern. 'Sire.' Oacma bowed before opening the door, checking the corridor, then closing it behind him, his footsteps to he heard echoing down the corridor before fading away.

Ecris took his place by the door so he could listen for eavesdroppers as Oacma had. Nuada turned to Ayla again. 'I think it best that either Oacma or I be with you when you are introduced to each new person, until we are sure of their identity,' he said looking worriedly at her. 'If you do reveal another shapeshifter, then I do not wish to give them any chance of harming you, as the chances are that they will recognize you for what you are also.' He laid a hand on hers as she nervously played with a cup on the table.

She gave him a little smile, to try to convince him she would be alright, but she could see that he was concerned for her safety. 'I will be fine,' she said soothingly. 'I do not need to be as close as you may think to see through another's veil of illusion,' she said calmly. 'All I can say is that so far, no-one has seemed at all suspicious to me.' 'Still, I do not wish to take the chance. And you are not the only one I am concerned for,' said Nuada, looking over to where Naeva sat.

He noticed she was now just staring into space as if daydreaming, still holding Sciana's hand, and he was about to turn back to Ayla, but he suddenly realized something was not right. She was looking altogether too pale for his liking and her breathing was shallow and erratic.

And when her hands began to tremble, Sciana also looked down at her, frowning in concern. 'Naeva, are you alr…' She never got to finish her sentence...


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

** Love In Chains**

Nuada was on his feet and there to catch her as Naeva's eyes rolled back in her head and she keeled over head first into his arms as he knelt on the floor in front of her, and he hurriedly pulled her to him so that he could turn her over onto her back.

Ecris was there beside them in a flash. 'Naeva! NAEVA!' he half-shouted in a voice filled with panic, as he checked her breathing.

Nuada began to feel strangely panicked too, as Naeva trembled in his arms. The others were now standing around them, concern etched onto their faces.

'What is it, Ecris?' he asked as calmly as he could, though he did not feel at all calm.

'I do not know,' replied the Mage with a concerned frown. 'I can only hope it is just that she has done too much too soon after her most recent ordeal.' He looked very worried. 'Can you lift her and carry her back to her room?' he asked the Prince, who nodded.

He was about to do as he was asked, but just then, Naeva's eyes began to open…and he found himself staring down into the same gold-tinged gaze that had held him in its grip before.

The jolt of shock that ran through him was immense, but he was thankful that this time he was not the target of that intense scrutiny. Instead, she seemed to be just staring ahead, rather than directly at him.

She suddenly took in a deep breath…and began to speak.

'I can see him…and hear his thoughts…they have him chained, like an animal…he refused to talk, so they beat him…he will not speak to them…how can they do this to one of their own?...Why?...' At this, she gasped raggedly as if in intense pain, and her eyes flickered shut as she slumped in Nuada's arms again.

'Quickly, Sire!' said Ecris. 'We must get her back to her room!' He was urgent in his tone, so Nuada picked Naeva up and carried her out of Ayla's room and into her own, leaving everyone else standing speechless and shaking in the other behind them.

He carefully laid her down and moved back so that Ecris could check her over once more. Nuada could see the colour beginning to return to her cheeks, and she was beginning to breathe more regularly, the trembling having subsided quickly.

'She is almost recovered,' said Ecris, shaking his head in astonishment. He looked at Nuada with an expression of awe again.

'Just what is it that we have…unleashed?' asked Nuada, in shocked amazement. 'By the Gods, Ecris! What has my blood done to her?' His mind was reeling.

'Sire…Nuada…I think it has awoken a gift that she already possessed, for it cannot be passed on in any way except through bloodline and ancestry. It is inherited.'

'What is it that she has inherited, Ecris?' asked Nuada in total bewilderment. The Mage stood and faced the Prince.

'It appears that she is, at the very least, a natural Seer…' Ecris began…' but we shall have to see if she exhibits other…signs…before I can tell if that is all she is…' He looked to Nuada with an almost sheepish expression, as if he knew the Prince did not really want to hear the rest of his theory.

'What is it, Ecris?' Nuada asked with a wearily resigned sigh. 'Just tell me. I can see there is more, though somehow I doubt I shall really be glad to hear it.'

The Mage cleared his throat nervously and prepared himself for whatever outburst would come from the Prince's direction… 'Nuada…' he began, carefully choosing his words, '…I have before seen a person display the gift of Seership in conjunction with other gifts. It is rare for one to have just the one gift…though it may yet prove to be the case here…but…there is a strong possibility, that Naeva may have been a latent…may BE…'

'PLEASE, Ecris!' Nuada cried in exasperation, and he stared at him imploringly. 'Just tell me the worst of it…'

Ecris sighed. 'Sire,…Naeva may be a natural born Mage.' He closed his eyes, waiting for the explosion he expected to follow, but none came.

Instead, Nuada's voice came to his ears in almost a whisper. 'I think…you may have your sign…'

He opened his eyes to look at Nuada, but instead of an expression of anger, the Prince was staring over his shoulder, and his face bore a look of absolute awe and wonderment.

Ecris slowly turned round…and nearly fell over in shock….

For though Naeva still lay out cold on the bed as before, the bed itself was most definitely not the same…

The pair stood staring open mouthed, as from every piece of the wooden frame, tendrils of green life spiralled out across the floor and up over the covers to surround Naeva in lush greenery, interspersed with the most beautiful and delicate white blossoms they had ever seen.

It was at this moment that Nuala, Sciana and Ayla had decided to come and see what had become of Naeva. They came through the door and stopped dead in their tracks, wearing the same expressions of wonderment.

As they watched, Naeva's eyes began to flutter open, and as they did, the greenery and flowers began to slowly fade away, until all that remained was the wooden bed as it had been before.

Ecris moved back to kneel beside Naeva once more as she woke up and looked around her with a confused expression.

'Ecris…' she said as she focused on his face, 'how did I get here?'

'You…fainted,' he replied, trying to decide how to tell her. 'But only after you appeared to be…' He didn't quite know how to phrase it, but she finished it for him.

'I went somewhere…' She frowned, trying to make sense of it, '…and someone…' Her eyes grew wide as she began to remember all she had seen, and a tear began to slowly make its way down her cheek. 'Where is Sciana?' she asked quietly. 'I need to tell her…'

'I am here,' her friend replied, walking forward and reaching a hand out to Naeva as she sat up on the bed.

'Sciana…Maiyor is not dead!' she said earnestly. 'He is being held somewhere, but I cannot tell where it is…he thinks of you constantly…he loves you so much…' The tears were now pouring down her face as she gazed up into the golden eyes of her dear friend, who now had silver tears of her own tracing down her pale cheeks.

'You, saw him?...heard him?' stammered Sciana through her tears. 'He is alive?'

'He is!' Naeva cried. 'Oh Ecris! I do not know how, but I know this to be true! He is still alive…somewhere! Oh WHY can I not see where it is?' she sobbed. She gazed at the Mage with eyes filled with a multitude of emotions, terror, sorrow, confusion…

He took her free hand in his and held it tightly. She really did hold a place in his heart as strong as would any daughter of his own, and it caused him great pain to see her so upset and frightened.

'Oh, my dear, dear Naeva,' he said gently, gazing at her sadly. 'You have a gift that is beyond imagining…but at times like these it will seem more of a curse…' He lifted his other hand to her cheek, trying to comfort her. 'All I can say to you is that you must not let the vision overwhelm you. You are shown only what you are meant to see, no more…'

'But how can we find him if I cannot see?' She wept inconsolably now, and Ecris pulled her to him and held her in an embrace full of love and the wish to take all her pain away.

Nuala was now beside Sciana, holding both hands in hers, trying to comfort and calm her too.

Ayla moved to Nuada's side and put a hand out to touch his arm, at which he turned to face her. He looked totally stunned.

'I think perhaps we should go to wait for Oacma and let them get over the shock of what has just happened,' she said quietly, 'and I think perhaps you need a moment too?'

'Yes…yes,' he stammered. 'I think we should…' He turned back to gaze at Ecris and Naeva once more.

'Ecris,' he said quietly, 'we shall wait for Oacma and the others, but as soon as we are finished, I shall return.' He gazed at Naeva's tearstained face and frowned. 'I must speak with you both…as there is much we have to discuss…especially now.' Ecris nodded sadly.

Naeva looked up at him and they gazed at each other for a few moments before Nuada forced himself to turn away and move to the door with Ayla, who had been watching everything in silence, taking in every nuance of the situation with great interest.

They went back to Ayla's room to wait for Oacma, sitting opposite each other at the table once more. Nuada looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, his eyes dark and brooding. Ayla reached for his hand, and he looked up at her.

'I expect you are truly beginning to regret agreeing to come here to help me,' he said with a sigh. 'I am sorry that I have put you in such a position,' he said apologetically. 'I will do my utmost to ensure you are safe whilst you stay here.'

'I am far from regretting it,' Ayla replied with a kind smile. 'If I had not, I would not have witnessed the events in that room…and I am surely glad I did! Not many have seen such a beautiful manifestation of a Mage's power.'

'To think,' said Nuada, shaking his head in disbelief, '…if she had not been prepared…to DIE…for us…then I would be…and Nuala…and she would never have become…' He took a deep breath, rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands with a huge, desperate sigh.

'Sire…?' Ayla was concerned at his sudden anguish.

'Just imagine how Naeva can help our people in the future, now that she embodies so much of the power that has been missing from this realm for so long…' he said quietly.

'Yes, she could do a lot to help us all…' Ayla replied, wondering why he was so sad.

'And yet she is human, Ayla…' he said, pulling his hands from his face to reveal pale golden eyes that reflected his deep sadness. 'I would have stood by and watched her die with the rest…and I would have been happy.' He shook his head as the full realization of what the culmination of his previous quest would have meant. 'But there could be more like her out there…others who have a trace of Elfaneen blood running through their veins. And I would have wiped them out.'

Now Ayla understood his sadness. She hated seeing him this way. He had helped her through so much pain of her own and knew he was a good and kind person, who had become hard and bitter due to the actions of others.

'Maybe so, Sire…but it did not come to pass. It was not meant to be. But now our people have a future…and that is good. If there are more who possess the blood and magic of the Elfaneen, then maybe Naeva can help you to seek them out?'

Nuada gave her a half-hearted smile. 'Yes. Perhaps she can. She has sensed that Maiyor is still alive…maybe she will be able to sense others like her in time.' He thought of the Elf who was at that very moment languishing in some unknown prison. 'As for Maiyor…I can only hope we shall be able to find him and bring him home.' His eyes darkened as anger pushed its way forward once again.

'We know who has him – but I cannot understand why he has kept him alive. I am glad he is, but the reasoning behind it escapes me for now.' He frowned as he tried to think. 'Apart from his search duties, Ecris does not think that Maiyor could have held any information that would warrant Bres wanting to spare him for interrogation. That is why we assumed he must have perished.' Nuada sighed heavily and shook his head.

'It seems I fell into the same trap as my father in making assumptions about my uncle. I will not make that mistake again.'

At that moment, Oacma returned, and as the door was open he stepped in and bowed to Nuada.

'Sire, I have gathered the four I most trust, as requested.' He spoke loudly enough for the four Elves waiting outside in the corridor to hear. 'Would you like me to introduce them to you, one at a time?'

'Yes, thank you, Oacma,' said Nuada nodding. He looked over to Ayla to make sure she was ready, then stood so that he could meet them formally, and also so that he would be in the optimal position to protect Ayla should another shapeshifter be revealed.

Oacma went outside, then returned with the first candidate for watch duty. The Elf bowed as he entered, looking nervous to be meeting his new leader face-to-face for the first time, and Oacma introduced him. The interview was short, but went well, as did the next three.

Ayla was satisfied that all was well with the four, and as such, Nuada asked Oacma to take charge of the situation, to instruct the four and to have them report to him. Oacma was to report directly to the Prince if anything, no matter how seemingly insignificant was sighted or seemed odd in the slightest.

A watcher was set for the first six hours, and the other three were sent off to prepare themselves with either food or sleep, as was appropriate to the timing of their relevant shifts, and Oacma himself went out with the first lookout, to find the best vantage point from which they could see all, but not be seen themselves.

After Oacma left with his new recruits, Nuada and Ayla returned to see how Naeva was. She seemed to be much better than earlier, and Sciana also appeared to be recovering slowly from her shock. She decided to tell them all what had developed between herself and Maiyor, why she had been so shocked by what Naeva had revealed.

More and more, Nuada was feeling a growing hatred of his uncle. He had, as far as he knew, never set eyes on him, but a picture was forming in his mind…and it was far from pretty. All he could see was a horribly scarred face and a heart as dark and evil as his own had almost become.

The insight he had into the mind of this vicious and calculated individual made his blood run cold in his veins. He himself had been prepared to commit mass-murder on an unprecedented scale…so what would his uncle be prepared to do to get what he wanted? Would he go as far as destroying the Unseen Realm if he could not conquer it for himself?

He looked over to where Naeva sat, well enough now to answer any questions he may have, and so he took a seat next to her.

'Naeva,' he began, 'when you saw Maiyor, who could you see with him?' he asked. 'You said at the time he is 'one of their own'…so I am taking it to mean he is being held by at least one Elf…' He took a calming breath. 'Was it our uncle that you saw…questioning him?'

She visibly paled at his mention. Nuada still did not know her full history, but it was obvious Bres had been a far from happy inclusion in it.

'No, Sire,' she said quietly, 'it was definitely not him in the room with Maiyor.' She closed her eyes so she could concentrate on the memory of what she had seen.

'There were two, not one, with him…both Elves…and both younger than yourself. I would say they were of approximately the same age as each other.' She frowned, trying to see more detail.

Her eyes shot open and she gasped, staring at Nuada in shock, unsure if she had seen what she thought she had.

'Sire…I have always been told that you are the last warrior of your people, the last to be permitted to bear arms, apart from the Kings Guards, as was your father's wish.'

Nuada looked over to his sister, and Nuala gazed back at him and nodded sadly, her heart torn in two by the feelings of loyalty and love she had for their father, and at the same time by the knowledge that Nuada was all that remained of the military strength of their people – and that this had been far from good for them during the millennia of their enforced nomadic existence. Her eyes dropped and she regarded her pale hands as she held them before her, her fingers intertwined in her attempt at self-comfort.

He turned back to Naeva upon seeing his sister's distress, not wanting to make it any worse. 'Yes, Naeva,' he said quietly, 'this is true. It appears I am truly the last.' His heart was sinking fast as the loneliness of his existence welled in him, missing the camaraderie of the warrior's hall as it had been at the height of its history.

Naeva looked visibly shaken and concerned.

'I can only tell you what I see…if the details I give are as I fear, then I believe you may be in great peril yourself, Sire,' she said in frightened tone.

'What is it, Naeva?' asked Nuada, beginning to feel more than a little apprehensive again.

'Sire…I see the two of them standing in front of Maiyor, and their…dress…is not unlike your own,' she said, swallowing as her fear tried to cut her off. She closed her eyes once more so she could concentrate on the image as well as possible. 'I see them both wearing similar armour to your own, but they have a slightly different design on each piece…and they wear a different seal. But they do both carry weapons…swords, at their backs.'

'They dress as warriors?' asked Nuada frowning as he contemplated this new detail. 'So with Bres added to the equation, and assuming he is still able to fight as he once was…then there are at least three for me to deal with.'

His eyes narrowed as he considered all possibilities. 'Bres achieved the rank of Silverlance to his clan before his banishment, which means he would be more than capable of training others in the art of combat.'

He had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he thought about how long Bres had had to tutor any number of young warriors, whereas he had not been given this same opportunity of forethought, due to the constricts of living within his father's enforced embargo of military force since the treaty with the humans was agreed.

'Ecris,' he said as he turned his attention to his Wisdom-Keeper for a moment, 'surely not all of those who trained as warriors of Bethmoora or the other clans have fallen to the humans in battle? There have to be some out there who still possess the knowledge and enough heart to bear arms if needed?

The Mage regarded the Prince with a deep frown as he considered the question. 'Sire, there are those, even here in Bethmoora as we speak, who at the very least began to train as warriors, though they have not lifted a weapon in anger since you left.'

'Also,' he said, looking from Nuada to his sister, feeling a little hesitant to continue, 'also I believe there may be a few who went out into the world as you did, Sire. Not every warrior was happy at the prospect of laying down their arms before the humans. I just hope and pray that they did not become so disenchanted with their situation that they would have succumbed to the lure of your uncle's promises of a change of rulership in our world, should they have come into contact with him. I cannot see him ignoring their potential use for his own ends.'

'Nor can I,' said Nuada quietly.

He turned his attention back to Naeva. She looked so small beside the Elves who sat around her. Only Ayla was similar in stature to her when she assumed a natural, more human appearance, but even she had become 'larger' in her Elven form.

He realized just how fragile she was physically, and found it amazing that she embodied so much power…and had survived so many traumas.

'Naeva,' he said gently, suddenly feeling that he should be careful not to be too forceful with her at this moment. 'I am glad you were able to describe these…others…so accurately. Details such as these will be invaluable to us if we are to prepare ourselves for whatever my uncle plans to do in the future.'

He gave her a small, thankful smile, and when she looked back at him and returned it with a sad smile of her own, he realized that his promise to protect her could only go so far. He would not be able to protect her from whatever horrors she may see in her mind when wandering the world using her magical abilities, or from the memories that already lurked behind her sorrowful green eyes.

They had similar predicaments it would seem, both trying to look to the future whilst being stalked by spectres of the past.

But, at this moment, he needed to concentrate on matters that had now been presented to him.

'Ecris,' he said decisively. 'How many people do you expect to return to Bethmoora today?'

The Mage considered for a moment. 'I should think somewhere between fifteen and twenty, Sire. I have left instruction that the returnees should come back in steady numbers day-by-day, rather than to leave in a single rushed exodus, to ensure we are able to prepare adequate arrangements for their arrivals, and also to make it easier to ascertain their true identities. It would be too simple for a spy to slip through the net if greater numbers were to arrive in one day.'

'Very true,' Nuada replied. 'Ayla…how would you prefer to 'acquaint' yourself with those who are already here? As I said before, I want either myself or Oacma at your side when you meet them.'

'Because the threat is so serious, I think it would be best if I could be put in a position where I can watch them pass by in a controlled way.' She formed a plan of her own. 'Is there a particular area of the palace through which most if not all the inhabitants must pass during the day? Perhaps a communal eating area?'

'Ah,' said Ecris as a thought struck him. 'I believe you have hit the nail on the head,' he said confidently. 'There is a room past which everyone will travel on their way into the temporary kitchen and dining area. We could set you up in there to watch as they pass the door, that way you will not have to get too close to them, but you will still be able to see them clearly enough. I can be with you to compile the names of all who are here at the same time. That way I can mark them off as they are cleared, and I will know for sure just who we have at our disposal for duty-sharing and the skills and knowledge we can call upon when needed – including those whom I believe can either resume or undertake a training regime in the warrior's hall – if that would be desirable?' he said, looking to Nuada at these last words.

'Indeed, Ecris, it all sounds more than satisfactory,' said Nuada with a growing sense of confidence. 'We shall set it up for us to begin this evening when all come for their meals. At least we may retire tonight knowing that we have begun our various tasks. A little certainty at this time will not go amiss,' he said, happy that they would at last be getting somewhere instead of existing in this strangely surreal and brooding limbo.

And so, with the first real decisions made, it was agreed that they would all go and prepare for the evening's work in their own way.

Nuala and Sciana were to organize rooms for that day's influx of returnees, and to ensure that the required room was left clear for Ayla's task.

'…but tomorrow,' said Nuada to his sister before she left, 'we must go together to open the Royal quarters for use,' he said quietly. 'It is time we followed some of the protocols so beloved of the Chamberlain.' Nuala nodded in agreement. It would be best if they went together for this. Neither wanted to enter this part of the palace alone.

As she and Sciana left, Nuada turned his attention to Ecris and Naeva. 'It seems you have a new apprentice of your own, Ecris,' said Nuada with a wry smile, at which Ecris himself smiled.

'Indeed, Sire, it appears so.' He took Naeva's hand in his as he gazed upon his new 'pupil'. 'There is a lot I need to tell you, my dear,' he said kindly.

'I would like to speak with you both later today,' said Nuada, regarding Naeva with a curious expression. 'I think it is time I heard your full story.'

She looked up at him with an expression that conveyed all the dread she felt at having to talk about her unhappy history.

'I do not wish it to be too painful to relate,' said Nuada kindly. 'If there are details that you would rather Ecris tell me, I will understand.'

She sighed heavily, but lifted her head in defiance of her sorrow.

'I shall tell you all you wish to know, Sire,' she said, trying to sound braver than she was actually feeling. 'I want to make sure you know every detail, as it may make sense to you and help you to prepare for the day you have to face your uncle.' She shuddered visibly at his mention. 'He has tried to destroy the lives of so many of us. It is time the tables were turned!'

Nuada gazed into her warm, green eyes, and just for a moment he saw something strong flare behind them, that jolt of energy passed between them once more. And he knew that he had a powerful ally in his new Mage.

Ecris and Naeva were about to leave, but Nuada needed one last question answered…

'Naeva, do you remember anything at all about the time between your link to Maiyor and the moment you…awoke in your room?' he asked quietly, careful not to sound too concerned.

'Well, yes, I do,' she said with a wistful smile. 'I had a dream…a beautiful dream,' she said gazing into his golden eyes. 'I dreamt I was sitting beneath an immense tree, whose branches reached high up in the sky, and its roots plunged deep down into the Earth…almost as if it were holding the world together…and I was surrounded by the most beautiful little white blossoms that I have ever seen…' She smiled up at him and almost giggled. 'In fact,' she said, 'it was almost as if they grew…out of me…because of me…' She shook her head and smiled dreamily. 'Dreams are so whimsical at times,' she said with a sigh.

Nuada and Ecris stared at each other as the image she described was etched into their minds…and as the recognition of it hit them both with the same force.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

**A Glint Of Hope**

Bethmoora was becoming quite a hive of activity. There were people meandering through the halls and corridors in pairs, chattering excitedly as they walked, carrying baskets and bags of produce destined for the kitchens, or with linens for the living quarters. Some rushed past with a message in hand or memorized, dashing to give it to the waiting recipient. Others were using brooms and cloths to clean away the dust and debris that had accumulated during the many centuries of the palace's vacancy. It would take some considerable time to achieve, but as needs demanded and section by section, the palace was becoming habitable once more.

Nuada was striding through the palace now also, accompanied by Oacma, who had finished instructing the newly appointed lookouts and helping to find the best vantage point for their posting.

He had sought the Prince out once more, wanting to be of as much use as he could to him, knowing that the coming days, weeks and months would be busy and filled with much that would need the Prince's attention. He wanted to make Nuada's job as leader as straightforward and trouble-free as possible, because he was fully aware of how much rested on his shoulders, much of which the rest of the Court and general populace of their world had absolutely no knowledge of whatsoever.

Nuada's mind did not need to be filled with the day-to-day concerns of setting up their occupancy of Bethmoora. He had some big decisions to make, and matters of such immense importance that their very lives depended on Nuada being focussed and ready to act at a moment's notice.

At this precise moment they were heading once more for the warrior's training hall, and the storage areas around it.

'We must conduct a thorough search of the entire area,' Nuada was saying. 'I cannot believe that my father would have gone to the trouble of destroying all the weapons that existed in the palace.' He frowned at this idea. 'He must have had them locked away instead – out of sight and out of mind, just as he tried to do with the Golden Army…' he said…

'And just as he so obviously felt about me…' he thought to himself as sadness washed through him, the memory of their last meeting coming to mind once more.

'Indeed, Sire,' said Oacma, nodding in agreement.

They opened many doors to many empty rooms, none yielding so much as a fragment of broken blade.

Nuada was beginning to feel truly frustrated by the lack of weaponry. How on Earth was he to prepare himself or any new-found potential warrior without them? They were fast running out of rooms to investigate in this section, when they finally found a door that appeared to be locked, unlike the others they had tried. They were unlikely to simply 'find' the key, so the only option was to break the door down.

They positioned themselves in front of it and, at a nod from the Prince, they both gave the door a hefty kick. The lock broke with a loud metallic crack and the wooden door flew open, nearly coming off its hinges due to the force of movement.

Oacma went off in search of a usable torch, and returned quickly with one already lighted. He stepped into the murky blackness first so he could shed light on whatever lay within.

At first they could see nothing except what looked like empty sacks strewn across the floor close to the door, but, as they slowly moved forward, what had at first seemed like nothing, soon became more interesting as a distinct metallic glint became visible in the flickering torchlight.

They kicked an abandoned sack or two out of the way and walked towards this tiny point of reflected light until they came to stacks of these old sacks, which were now obviously being used to wrap something in as a protective covering.

As Oacma held the torch higher to allow the light to travel further into the room, it became apparent that there were many, many such bundles.

Nuada reached out and began to peel the layers of sacking away from whatever lay there, and as the source of that tiny glint of reflected light was finally revealed, he shot a glance over at Oacma, whose expression was as joyous as his own. For lying before them was a beautifully crafted and detailed scabbard – and it still held a blade.

Nuada picked up the scabbard, took hold of the hilt, and slowly withdrew a gleaming blade – a sword of Elven silver, as beautiful as it was deadly.

'YES!' he exclaimed triumphantly, turning once more to Oacma, who grinned back at him, their golden eyes reflecting the silver glint of the blade as the torchlight danced brightly across its polished surface.

He began to unwrap more of the bundles and found that each contained one or more of the weapons he had been desperate to find, uncovering swords, daggers and spears of superb quality.

'At last we have the weapons…' said Nuada with satisfaction. 'Now we need hands to wield them,' he said with a sigh.

'Well, Sire, I have two, and they have craved the opportunity to hold a blade once more,' said Oacma, his eyes flashing brightly. Nuada turned to face him and a knowing smile formed on his lips as he regarded his friend's fervent expression. He nodded slowly.

'I can think of no-one I would rather have at my side as the first to take up arms in the name of our people,' he said happily, and patted Oacma amiably on the shoulder. 'Come,' he said. 'Let us find you a weapon or two, to keep your hands from feeling empty any longer.'

They opened bundle after bundle, revealing some beautiful blades, but then they pulled a sack away and uncovered the best of the weapons so far. 'I think perhaps we should return to the hall…and let you try this blade…to see if it suits,' said Nuada, picking up the sword and holding it out to Oacma, whose eyes shone at the prospect of having a weapon of his own, especially one of such wonderful craftsmanship.

'Thank you, Sire,' he said, reaching out and clasping the sheathed sword, feeling the weight of it in his hand. To him, at that moment, it was as if the Prince had just handed him a part of himself that he had somehow lost along the way. They looked at each other and grinned. Nuada picked up a few more weapons and they left the store room that held so much promise, and headed for the training hall at last.

Stepping into the Warrior's training hall once more, Nuada and Oacma talked happily about their good fortune in finding the cache of weapons that lay in the long-forgotten storeroom inside the palace. So many of their hopes had rested upon discovering them intact – hopes that may now have a chance of being realized.

Nuada came to a halt a few steps in, frowning slightly. He must be getting used to being back here in their subterranean palace, because it really did not seem to be as dark in the hall as it had before. Either that, or…No. It couldn't be…

He shook his head in dismissal of his thoughts, and instead walked to one of the benches at the side of the room and put the weapons he held down, so that he could go round the hall with Oacma, lighting the ensconced torches. 'Well, my friend,' he said with a smile, 'you are here again, but this time you have the weapon you craved. Shall we see how well balanced your blade is?'

Oacma's eyes were positively ablaze with joy. He stood now in the Warrior's hall with his leader and a wonderful weapon in his hand. 'Sire,' he replied, bowing, 'nothing would give me greater pleasure.' He smiled widely, and proceeded to unsheathe his new, silver blade.

Nuada grinned back, bowed in response, and lifted his hand to the hilt of the spear-blade sheathed on his back, and withdrew it. 'How much training did you complete before having to lay down arms?' he asked. He had to know how far he could go on their first session together.

'Prior to the treaty being set, I had become reasonably adept with a single sword, but fighting with two was beyond my skills at that time,' said Oacma sadly. 'I only hope that I can reacquaint myself with a blade once more, and maybe become more skilled than I was previously.'

'Of that I have no doubt,' said Nuada kindly. 'Your heart never truly left here…and this reunion shall surely awaken all the memories that sleep in your mind and your body. In a short time, I believe you shall find all that you fear you have lost…and more!' He smiled and nodded to Oacma, trying to raise confidence in him once more.

Oacma gave a little smile back as he nodded to the Prince to indicate he was ready to begin.

They each took up a stance of readiness…

Nuada made a thrusting move towards Oacma, much more slowly than he would normally, and Oacma was able to block this move easily. A swipe to the left was blocked with ease, as was the one to the right, each being slightly faster than the one previous.

Nuada tried different lunges and slashes, testing Oacma's speed, concentration and strength until he was happy he had a measure of his skills. 'Your technique is excellent,' said Nuada with an impressed nod. 'I do not think it will take long at all for you to regain your full speed and strength.'

Oacma smiled happily at the Prince's words of encouragement. 'Thank you, Sire.'

'And then perhaps we should get you started with two blades?' asked Nuada. His tone was very positive and instilled more confidence in Oacma than he had felt in a long time. 'Yes, yes! Thank you, Sire,' he replied with a nod and smile of appreciation.

'Good!' said Nuada, a satisfied smile on his face. At least that feeling of being alone, even when surrounded by crowds of people, was beginning to fade. He raised his spear-blade in readiness once more, and after a nod from Oacma, they began to spar, properly this time. Though the Prince had to work more slowly than usual, he was enjoying himself immensely. He hadn't sparred with one of his kin since he left Bethmoora. This truly felt like a homecoming to him.

They sparred for a long while, until Nuada could see that Oacma was beginning to tire. Oacma knew better than to push himself too far on his first session. That is when mistakes are made and unnecessary injuries are obtained.

'Sire, I believe I should retire before I do too much, and I am sure you would appreciate some time to train properly by yourself.' He brought his blade round so that it lay horizontal before him and bowed to the Prince in the traditional manner of conceding a fight, or to show intent of leaving the 'field'.

Nuada bowed in acknowledgement. 'Very good,' he said with a smile. It was good to see that Oacma was aware of his limits and of the needs of his new Weapons Master. He was going to prove to be an excellent pupil and ally.

Oacma left the hall for a while to go in search of water and towels, as he needed them himself and the Prince would too after a real training session. When he returned, he entered as quietly as possible, staying well to the side of the entrance so as not to disturb the Prince's concentration. He found Nuada had already prepared himself for training, having stripped to the waist, and he was now standing in the middle of the hall. After a few seconds he began to slowly walk forwards, his spear-blade arcing and slicing the air as he moved.

Oacma sat enthralled as for the first time in millennia, he watched the Prince conduct a proper training session. Nuada moved across the floor with a strangely vicious grace, the blade spinning as he went. Each lunge and slash coming in quick succession, each a killing blow.

He ran at the wall and leapt high, and used the momentum to bounce back, twisting round. He landed lightly and cleaved the air with a great upward swipe as he spun round. Anyone standing to his right would have been decapitated had they been unlucky enough to be within his reach.

After moving across the floor again, with lunges and slashes slicing the air, he rolled forward, and planted the pommel hard upon the floor. The spear extended to its full length and Nuada brought it down horizontal to the floor as he spun round, scything the air in an upwards spiral as he stood, reaping any number of imagined opponents.

He brought the spear around his back to his other hand and over his head in sweeping circles as he passed it hand-to-hand, then back down to his side, coming to a stop with the pommel behind his right shoulder and the tip pointing at an angle towards the floor.

He brought the spear back round to the front and began again to chase down his invisible opponent, moving rapidly in various zigzag and circular patterns so as to strike out and avoid being struck.

He continued training for a long while, revelling in the rush of adrenaline as he pushed himself harder than he had been able to for many months. He had been confined by either space or time constraints before coming here and having the hall at his disposal.

At last, he decided he had covered everything he felt it necessary to practice, plus more for his own enjoyment, and that it was time to quit for today. He would come back here as often as possible, hopefully with Oacma…or maybe even others who could start, or continue training.

Coming to a stop, he walked over to Oacma and gratefully accepted the drink of water and clean towel to wipe away the perspiration that ran down his face. 'We shall have to get something done about reinstating the supply of water to the cisterns down here,' he observed. 'We cannot have people going outside all the time. It is, after all, the same springs that fed us before that they visit now.'

They could get the water flowing back to the old network of channels inside the palace. Before, they even had water coming up from deep below them, warmed by the tremendous heat coming from inside the Earth herself. It was time to call upon the skills of the Cave Trolls again it seemed. But for the time being, Nuada would use his usual natural shower.

He picked up his shirt and spear, but Oacma insisted that he should carry his armour pieces. Nuada was feeling very relaxed after the session and decided to go straight to the waterfall, instead of having to dress and undress three times. People would have to get used to seeing him and any others like this if they wished to benefit from the warrior's protection once more.

He was already tired of thinking to a set of bureaucratic rules and decided that some of the less necessary structure would have to be done away with. Tradition was one thing, but this kind of 'red tape' was going to bog them all down for no good reason whatsoever.

He and Oacma doused the torches and left the hall, making their way to the waterfall portal. They met a few people on the way, who bowed as they passed, but not many. Luckily for two of them, the Prince and Oacma missed the sight of the two women as they walked headlong into each other, each of them gawping at their leader's physique that was rather more muscular and defined than they were used to seeing these days.

Once Nuada had checked the area around the waterfall, Oacma went to the entrance to stop anyone coming through so the Prince could have some privacy. Nuada savoured the feeling of the fresh, cool water cascading over him, though he hoped that they could get warm water running inside the palace before winter came. He did not feel the cold as much as a human would, but he definitely preferred a warm shower to a freezing one in the open air when the bad weather hit.

After dressing he got Oacma to accept his offer to watch the portal and allow him the opportunity of a private shower too. When he was finished and dressed, the two of them returned to the living quarters, bearing news of their find and at least a little renewed hope.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

**A First Encounter**

Upon reaching the living quarters, The Prince and Oacma went to their own rooms to change and carry on with their day.

After checking the progress Nuala and Sciana were making with the more mundane household concerns, he headed for Naeva's room. As he expected, she was there with Ecris. Oacma had rejoined them here too, as he had already checked on his new lookouts, making sure they were all happy and ready for their duties.

Nuada had knocked and been admitted by Ecris and after the usual bows, Nuada had been offered a chair, but declined for the time being, preferring instead to join Oacma in standing beside the fire.

After he and Oacma had recounted their good fortune with the weapons cache, they determined that it should become one of their greater priorities to find those who could be trained to use them, and the list Ecris was to compile was becoming a very important part of their preparations.

Having concluded this discussion, it was time to get to more delicate matters, namely Naeva's history. Nuada knew virtually nothing of his new Mage's past, but if they were to learn to trust one another completely and to work together as well as they possibly could, they needed to have no gaps in their knowledge of one another.

Nuada was first to broach the subject.

'Naeva, if you are feeling well enough, I would be grateful if you could tell me about yourself and how you came to us. I have a feeling there is much to tell.' He watched her reactions carefully as he spoke, to get a measure of how much the past was influencing her now.

She took a deep breath and swallowed hard as he brought the matter up, obviously dreading talking about it. But it had to be done. Ecris reached over and laid a hand on hers, trying to give her a little support, and she turned and gave him a grateful smile in return.

'Yes, Sire,' she began. 'I am well enough.' She closed her eyes for a moment so she could gather her thoughts…Then she began.

'Sense dictates that I should start at the very beginning. When I was fifteen, my parents died in an accident and I was taken to a children's home, having no other family to take me in. I lived there for nearly a year, but after having problems there, I ran away. I lived on the streets for a long time, eventually making some friends, and we lived in a squat for a few months, until we were evicted.'

'So,' though Nuada, 'she was in essence in exile too.' He found this rather poignant.

'While we were there I made friends with one of the newer girls who had joined us not long before we had to leave. She said she knew someone who may be able to help, but only she and myself, as there would not be room for all of us. She wanted to help me because I had helped her a lot. I took it at face value as an offer from a friend. I wish now I had not been so naïve and had looked deeper into her offer.'

Nuada knew of some of the 'offers of help' that were given to girls, and boys, of her age who lived like this. Why, he thought to himself, do humans have to corrupt the innocents who are vulnerable, instead of giving them the help and protection they needed. He had never come to understand this, despite having seen the dregs of humanity behave in this way since he was first in exile.

'She took me along to a very high-class nightclub and casino in the centre of the city, though we went in through the back, away from the public areas. I was given some food and clean clothes to wear, then introduced to a man who called himself Wilson. He said he would take me to see the person he was working for the next day, but I was to stay there that night, with the girl who had brought me. Because she was staying too, I thought it would all be alright. I was wrong.' She blinked a few times and Nuada could see that tears were beginning to well.

'We were taken to a room which held a couple of beds. It was basic, but far better than I had been used to for quite some time, and so we got into bed and chatted for a while. She seemed to know a lot about the place and people, so I was surprised she did not stay with them all the time instead of living with others like myself in dank conditions that even rats would consider 'roughing it'. She sighed heavily. 'How truly naïve I was. I should have trusted my own instinct that something was amiss. I may have been able to leave during the night…'

Nuada could tell she was angry at herself for not seeing the signs of trouble to come, but as he knew his uncle was probably involved in it, he could not see how she would have simply walked out of there. She regained her composure and continued…

'However, I did not. After talking for a while, we eventually went to sleep. I awoke in the night, and could hear the noise coming from downstairs in the club. The night's entertainment was in full swing. I needed the bathroom, so I walked down a corridor or two until I came to the top of some stairs.

As I was about to go down them, I spotted someone coming out of one of the rooms I had already passed. They looked strange to me in the shadows and as far as I could see, it was someone in costume, wearing a cloak with its hood up. I thought it was someone from downstairs, assuming there was a party of revellers in fancy dress, so I called down the corridor to them, saying I was lost and asked if they could help me. But they just stopped and turned to look at me. I could not see their face because it was too dim and the hood covered them well.

After a second they went back into the room. I was going to go and try to speak to them again, thinking they had simply not heard me, but the girl had realized I was missing and had come to fetch me. She was trying to pull me away, but I told her what had happened. She looked terrified and pulled me even harder, but before we could leave, Wilson came out and asked her what was going on, and said that I was supposed to have been locked in my room before being taken with the 'other girls'. Apparently there were good customers waiting for us. I now know, of course, that they were taking homeless girls off the streets to work for them as 'escorts', though that is far too nice a description of what they were making them do. In one way, it appears I had a very lucky escape...' She smiled ironically at this, knowing that it was more a case of 'out-of-the-frying-pan-into-the-fire' in reality.

'She said she was sorry, and that it would never happen again, but I heard a voice coming from the room, telling Wilson to bring us in. I was not sure what was going on and wanted to leave, but the girl shoved me forward and produced a knife. I was not stupid enough to argue with her, so I started walking. As I turned the corner and entered, the person I had seen was standing in there, still cloaked but the hood was now down….'

She began to tremble, and Ecris squeezed her hand to try to comfort her. She placed her other hand atop his and gave him a weak smile of thanks in return.

Nuada was no mind reader, but knew who it must be, due to Naeva's reaction. 'It was my uncle,' he said quietly, his golden eyes watching as a tear slipped from her lower lashes and fell, causing a darker spot to appear on the red silk of her gown. She nodded and impatiently wiped her cheek with her hand, annoyed at herself for allowing her emotions to get the better of her, and determinedly continued…

'Yes, Sire. It was. I began to see he was not a 'normal' man. His skin, his eyes…I had never seen anyone like him before… He sent the girl back out, but Wilson stayed, and he just stood by the door after it was closed.

Naeva closed her eyes for a moment so she could picture every detail and remember every word spoken.

'He made me sit down, then began to question me. I thought he had gone mad because he suddenly asked if I could see him! I just said 'of course I can!' But he asked Wilson too…and he said 'No, my Lord.' I thought he too had gone completely mad…but now, of course, I see that Bres had thought his glamour had failed for some reason. And it scared him!' She said this with a small smile.

Nuada could understand this reaction. She must be one of probably very few people ever to see his uncle show weakness. He was sure Bres would only show pitiless disdain to anyone he met.

'I asked him why Wilson called him 'My Lord'. He strutted around the room then, saying that everyone should call him that, because he is rightfully a king, and he was ranting about your father…' She looked straight into Nuada's eyes… '…and he said he was going to take back his throne and kill Balor…and his offspring. He laughed as he told of how close we actually were to his brother at that very moment, that Balor had no idea he was there and was ready to strike at the very heart of the kingdom, to take his place on the throne and become king at last.'

Nuada's eyes flashed and darkened with rage. Bres had directly threatened the lives of himself and his family…he also felt a rush of guilt and despair as he thought of Bres's reaction when he heard that Balor's own son had taken care of half the job for him. He clamped down on his feelings, staying as outwardly calm as he could, so Naeva could carry on.

'But it is the rest of what he said that convinced me that he is truly insane…' she said, paling further and beginning to tremble again. Ecris knew what was coming, and squeezed her hand again, his eyes revealing the sadness – and anger – that he too felt. She smiled weakly and continued.

'He was pacing round, speaking fervently about what he was going to do. There was talk of taking over the Unseen Realm with help from 'his friends', and creating a new ruling clan, with him at its head.' Her lip began to quiver now too. This was getting harder, but she was determined to finish.

'I was even more scared of him now, talking of an Unseen Realm and clans, and I wanted nothing more than to run out of there. I told him he was mad, and that others would miss me and knew where I was, trying to scare him into letting me go, but he just slapped me hard with the back of his hand and sent me flying. He laughed at me, saying no-one knew where I was. No-one cared. And he was right. No-one gave a damn…' Tears ran down her cheeks as the memories of her past were released again.

'When I got back up off the floor, he grabbed me and stared at me, straight in the eyes, as if he was looking for something, then asked me my name. Apparently that had been unimportant before. I told him I was called Naeva and he seemed shocked. He asked me how I came to have this name, as it was more befitting to one of his own kind, rather than a human.'

She looked at Ecris and they shared a smile, as he knew what she had thought at the time.

'I asked him what he meant, as even though he looked so different, I could not believe he was not human. He just stared at me in silence. I told him how I was given the name because of the pendant I wore, which had been handed down through my family for generations. I had always worn the pendant. My parents made sure I kept it on, and as it meant so much to them, I always had. And that was, of course, all I had left of them…' Her lips quivered, but she managed to compose herself once more.

'Bres told me to show him the pendant, which I did. I was not going to argue with him or lie about having it with me. I believe by the way he looked at me that he would have known. He held it in his hand for a moment, and he looked quite shocked. Then, he pulled it hard, snapping the chain that had held it, and walked away from me, telling Wilson to 'get him', though I still do not know who 'he' was. Wilson left the room and Bres just stood there staring at me. I heard footsteps behind us, and I turned to see who it was…then everything went black.

I awoke lying on the same bed I had been given earlier. But I never saw the other girl again after that.'

She took a deep, shaky breath, and asked for a drink of water, which Oacma quickly poured for her. She took a sip or two and continued.

'I do not know how long I was unconscious, or who it was that had entered the room, just that it was some time before I saw anyone again. Wilson came and took me to a different room, which was far better than the one I had been left in. It was grand and richly decorated. Obviously there were suites of rooms available for their wealthy clientele to use.'

'He entered a few moments later and sent Wilson out. He started off by apologizing for his tone earlier, asked me to sit, and offered me a drink. It smelled like a herbal tea of some sort and I was loathe to drink it, but he took a sip himself and said it was safe, so I also sipped it, very slowly. Nothing seemed to be happening so I drank it while he spoke as I was unbelievably thirsty after my time 'asleep'.

He spoke calmly, though I could see in his eyes that this was not how he truly felt. He had a strange, almost excited expression. He began to talk of how I was special and the first he had met who could see through his glamour. I, of course, did not understand that at all back then.'

She swallowed hard now, as her throat began to tighten with the subconscious desire to still her own voice so she could not say the words that came next.

'He told me I was very special, and as he had shown an interest, one of 'his friends' had given me to him as a gift. He said this was fortunate, as he would never find one of his own kind to…to…meet his needs.' She clamped her eyes shut for a moment and forced herself to continue… 'He said he would keep me safe, for now, and that though there had been others in the past, I was the first to amuse and interest him in a long time…' Naeva felt sick to her stomach, and had to take another drink of water.

After a moment or two, and Ecris's support, she began to speak again.

'I could not comprehend any of what he had said. I was so scared. And I was starting to feel strange. The tea was obviously a slow-acting drug, as I began to feel light-headed. He pulled me out of my seat and took me to the next room…to his bed… I tried so hard to fight him, I screamed, but no-one came. I bit and kicked and scratched…but he just laughed and said that I had 'spirit…'

Nuada's eyes were the colour of darkest amber as the rage grew within him, but as he saw the turmoil and sheer disgust Naeva felt, he kept silent for her sake.

'He forced me…I could do nothing to stop him…' She covered her face with her hands and sobbed, as Ecris pulled her to him and held her tight in a protective embrace, the hurt in his eyes surpassed only by the rage and disgust in those of Oacma and the Prince.

Nuada was seething beneath an overly calm surface. It was hard for him to sit quietly and listen to the treacherous words of his uncle – and to hear of his depraved behaviour. He was sorely ashamed of his own behaviour, especially of his recent past, but the actions of his uncle sickened and disturbed him.

'Naeva…' he said, as gently as he could, '…would you prefer it if Ecris told me the rest? I do not wish you to have to recall anymore…details that will cause you further grief.' He watched as she slowly pulled herself away from Ecris, telling him she would be alright now.

'No, Sire,' she said in wavering voice, gazing back at him with sorrowful eyes that still brimmed with tears. 'I must tell you myself. But…thank you for your concern…' She tried to smile in thanks, but it was somewhat lost in her sorrowful expression.

'After…' she swallowed hard, took a deep breath. 'After this…he made me dress in a long white gown, saying it would not be seemly for me to wear my usual clothes now that I had been 'chosen' by him. Then he said he had to go to meet 'the others' who were helping him to build his new kingdom. I was taken back to 'my room' and left there until he decided to summon me again'.

Nuada looked at Ecris with an expression of deepest shock. Who were these 'friends' that his uncle kept talking about? Humans, obviously. Wealthy humans. And in the human's world money meant you could get anything...or anyone you wanted. Money equalled power. What exactly where they helping him with...or he they?

Naeva could see just how shaken he was by all this and knew she had to finish.

'I was kept there for days, being brought to him whenever he asked, Wilson being the one to fetch me each time. I asked him why he was doing this, why he obeyed the orders of a madman like this. He just laughed and said I could never imagine what he was to get for doing his bidding. I hated him so much for what he did…' She stared into space for a moment, recalling the man who had acted as her jailor in the full knowledge of what was happening to her, with never a moment of contrition.

'Wilson was the only other person I had real contact with, but I heard and saw fleeting glimpses of others, who seemed to me to be extremely wealthy people, and they had all come to see Bres.

'I knew I had to get out of there. I could only see one possible way out, so I took it. I waited until a particularly noisy evening. There was a large mirror in my room, which I smashed after placing it under the bed covers to dull the noise. I selected the longest shard of glass I could see, wrapped a piece of torn sheet around it, and waited for hours for Wilson to come and fetch me once more. I heard him unlocking the door, and waited behind it. And as he entered…I stabbed him…' She paled even more now, her hands trembling.

'I was surprised how easily the glass went in…I thought it would just break in my hand. There was so much blood…on my hands and clothes…some of it mine from where the edge of the glass had sliced through the cloth and across my palm…' As she spoke, she looked down at her right hand and Nuada could see a long, slender scar running diagonally from the base of her index finger. She stared at it for a moment as she remembered the event…

'…It was so warm…and the smell of it…' Her voice was quiet and strangely calm as she spoke.

She began to feel dizzy now and she rocked slightly in her seat as she tried to stay upright, and Nuada thought she may actually either faint or vomit as she looked totally sickened by what she had done. He could remember the first time he had had to kill… the feel of warm blood on his hands…but for him, it was just part of what he was trained for, what had to be done. For her, it must have been unbearable.

Ecris handed her another glass of water, which she managed to take a sip or two of, whilst trying to breathe through the nausea that had overwhelmed her at the memory of such an awful event. After a minute or so, she had calmed enough to be able to continue. She was nearly finished her tale now, and wanted nothing more than to get to the end of it once-and-for-all…

'I was absolutely terrified, but I had to carry on. I checked the corridor, but thankfully no-one was around, so I made my way to the stairs I had found on my first night there, and crept down. I found myself in a lobby area, from which various doors led off, but I still had to get out of the building.

I knew I would never make it through the public areas, so I went through the door which was most obviously a service entrance. I could hear people talking somewhere close by and they were coming my way, so I had to chance ducking into the nearest room I could find that was unlocked, but I kept the door open a fraction so I could watch.

A couple of girls walked past. They looked like croupiers heading into work. As they disappeared through one of the doors, I headed for the room they had just left, which turned out to be a changing room full of lockers. As quickly as I could manage, I grabbed the longest of the coats that had been left hanging there, then I made for the only door which looked as if it may lead to the outside world. I was right. But unfortunately, I had been spotted on a security camera. I heard an alarm go off, so I just ran as fast as I could, down the alleyways behind the buildings, trying to find a way out onto the street. I had hoped that being out in the open and in full view of everyone, they may either leave me, or that I may be able to disappear in the crowd.

I managed to get a few streets away before I ran out of breath. My feet were bleeding by now too as I was barefoot. I was close to a disused office building, so I went round the back of it as far as I could before a security gate barred my way. I was hoping to see a way through the fence, or a broken window, but I could see nothing, so I turned to leave. But he had already found me.' She closed her eyes again and swallowed hard.

'I had not heard him come up behind me. Not a sound. He put his hand over my mouth to stop me crying out, then he must have hit me, because the next thing I can remember is waking up to find myself looking down over the edge of the building as he held me there by the scruff of my neck. I screamed and tried to push myself back, but he held me there and laughed. We were about three floors up on a fire escape, overlooking the car park. There was absolutely no-one else around.'

Tears streamed down her face again as she recalled the horror she felt at him finding her again.

'He tightened his grip on the back of my neck and leaned in and whispered in my ear, saying no-one disrespected him like that, ever. He said he had chosen me and that I should have been grateful that I had been spared a life of pain and humiliation because of him. I had repaid his kindness by killing his servant and leaving without permission.

He said he found it regretful, as he had found me… entertaining and interesting…but he could not allow me to live any longer after having insulted him so badly.

With that, he pushed me forward…and simply let go. I do not remember hitting the ground, and I do not know how I survived…but I did. When I next opened my eyes, it was morning and I was still lying there. I could hardly move at all, and I had never been in so much pain as I was at that moment. But I was probably the luckiest woman ever that night, as I believe I had actually hit a pile of refuse sacks before slipping off onto the concrete. He must have just walked away as if nothing happened, not even bothering to see if he had done the job properly. His arrogance had helped me to get away from him. That is one of his greatest weaknesses. In his mind he is infallible.' She gazed at Nuada at these words, and he took them in.

'It took me so long to drag myself across the ground to the nearest shelter I could see, which turned out to be a doorway into what must have been a boiler room for the offices. This had been forced by someone in the past, so I was able to get inside, and I pulled myself into a dark corner, not knowing what I was going to do next. But I had at that moment assumed that I would die there, alone in the dark. I think I gave up hope right there and then. I could see nothing left to live for after this… He had taken away the last of my dignity and will to survive.'

Naeva covered her face with her hands, unable to speak further, and Ecris pulled her close once more as she shook and sobbed.

It was Oacma who finished the last details for the Prince as Naeva had finally reached the limits of her emotional endurance concerning this particular chapter of her past.

'Sire,' he began, turning to the Prince, 'it must have been either one or possibly two nights later that Maiyor had found her. Unknown to us, Bres must have been incredibly close to bringing his plan to fruition at that point. If we had not found Naeva that night…we may never have had the chance to sit here as we are now. As soon as it became apparent who Naeva had encountered, and how serious the threat was, your father had us depart immediately upon receiving information given to us by various scouting parties, and thus we moved Court to the land in which you found us upon your return from exile. We had been there for a comparatively long time.'

Nuada nodded in thanks to Oacma for giving him the last detail. Indeed, it seemed that Naeva had been able to save their world from certain doom. The irony of the fact that a human had saved them…twice, even though it was they who had driven them to the brink of annihilation, was not lost on him.

He looked over to Naeva, still being comforted by Ecris as she fought to still the tears that had overtaken her, despite her best efforts.

'Naeva,' he said as gently as he could. She slowly looked up at him, her eyes bright with tears. 'I thank you for your openness in sharing your story with me. I sincerely hope you may never have to recount it to anyone else in the future, and that you may finally be able to put the past behind you, where it belongs.' He bowed his head to her in thanks, to which she nodded back with an attempted though not quite accomplished smile.

Nuada decided to leave Naeva in Ecris's care so he could help her to get over the trauma of remembered suffering.

He and Oacma left them in peace then, returning together to Ayla's room, so the three of them could discuss the various tasks that needed to be accomplished that evening, and the situation with the lookouts. Ayla offered them help with this matter too, saying that if they went for a 'breath of air' until they were out of sight of Bethmoora's entrance, they could return to the beach they had left earlier, and she could contact her kin and ask them to keep watch also.

This was agreed and acted upon, and arrangements were made for Ayla's clan to bring word to Bethmoora if any possible threat was detected in the waters they inhabited.

This done, the three of them returned and prepared themselves for the evening's work ahead of them.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 – A Golden Opportunnity**

It had been quite a busy day for everyone, with another 18 new returnees needing to be fed and allotted rooms. And among their number was one person that Nuada had dreaded having to deal with.

The Chamberlain teetered along on his spindly legs, which were hidden from view under his long robes of deep red and black. He was accompanied by another of the Court officials, one of the lower ranks of stewards whose job it was to assist him in his day-to-day duties. They walked along the corridor together muttering between themselves about how they felt the preparations were rather disorderly and how much they were needed there to take matters in hand.

Unfortunately as they entered one of the communal areas they were overheard by the one person in whose presence they should have remained silent. They had not noticed the Prince walking up behind them as he made his way back towards his room to change his clothes after a busy day. He had been helping to organize various working parties, and had sent out requests for specifically skilled people who could construct or repair essential structures and amenities either inside or leading to the palace.

There were other people he needed to talk to, but that would have to wait until this evening. He had decided to have Oacma keep watch over Ayla during her time spent assessing the true nature of all Bethmoora's present inhabitants so that he was able to talk with the goblin smiths, and had sent word for all those still alive who had worked to construct the Golden Army to return for this meeting. But at this precise moment, someone else had, unfortunately for them, caught his attention. And he was not amused.

'Well, well. Chamberlain.' Nuada's icy tone was unmissable. 'How good it is to see you again,' he said sarcastically. 'And what, may I ask, is it that so upsets you?'

The tall Fey's small yellow eyes widened in alarm at the sound of the Prince's voice coming from so close behind, and he turned to see him standing almost as near as he had been when they first encountered one another just days before. He was exceedingly worried by the sight of the pommel of Nuada's spear blade visible over his right shoulder. The memory of having the sharp edge of a sword held to his neck caused him to swallow nervously. Though tall himself, the Prince stood at least a foot shorter than the Chamberlain, but to see the cowering look on the cleric's face, one would think he towered over him.

'Your Highness!' said the Chamberlain, at last finding his voice. 'We...that is I, was only concerned at seeing the Princess involved in the more...menial tasks being performed here. It was not my wish to cause offence.' He swallowed again, twiddling his fingers together as he tried not to appear quite as flustered as he was feeling.

'Indeed?' asked Nuada. 'I suppose it does rather go against protocol,' he said in a slightly acidic tone, 'but under the circumstances, protocol is something we have to set aside...' The Chamberlain's eyes widened again at this, envisioning scenes of disorder and chaos within the palace at having no rules or regulations being followed.

'...For Now,' Nuada added at last. Though he found the cleric's expression comical and his obvious discomfort rather entertaining, he had things to do, so he decided to release him from his current position as prey to his temper.

'As soon as it is right, you shall have...most...of your protocols reinstated. Rest assured, Chamberlain, things shall be done properly...in time.'

'Oh...oh...Thank you, Sire,' replied the Chamberlain, deciding against enquiring as to what exactly he meant by 'most' of the protocols. He moved aside and bowed so that Nuada could pass by, which he did after giving the cleric one last glare.

The Chamberlain breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the Prince was out of earshot, and shuffled off to his room accompanied by the steward – but this time he kept his voice down.

Nuada also went to his own room. He was surprised to find some new clothes waiting for him, neatly folded on his bed. There was a new black silk shirt, black trousers, and overjacket, which had a delicate narrow band of red embroidery around each edge, using the foliate design from the Royal Seal. He held this up and smiled approvingly. It was probably about time he had something new to wear for more formal occasions, and the meeting tonight would be the first time he needed to present a more commanding appearance. The clothes he had now were becoming quite literally frayed at the edges. He had always appeared as regal as possible when necessary, but like all his people, there were more important considerations than merely the state of their clothing.

On the washstand there was also a bowl and ewer of warm water ready for him. Someone had obviously seen him heading this way. Probably when he was talking with the Chamberlain, as a few heads had turned when they heard their conversation. He sighed when thinking on it. Ah well, he supposed he would have to get used to seeing him and his officers about the place...and to keeping his temper in check.

His mind wandered back to a time long ago, when he and his clan still resided at the palace. There was always someone like the Chamberlain milling about the palace, doing their duty, keeping Bethmoora's household running like clockwork, always on hand to help with the smaller details of daily life. Perhaps he should just let them get on with things as they had before so that he and the rest could be assured of getting on with their own duties unimpeded by other concerns.

He made a decision. They would definitely need to dismiss with some of the less useful structure of palace life, but they still needed a lot of it to keep things running smoothly. He would have to convene a meeting at some point to hash out the details.

But another meeting was happening far sooner and he had to get ready for it. He undressed and washed, thankful that someone had been prepared for his return as he felt rather grimy from all the dust that had been kicked up by the working parties.

When he finally felt clean, he dried himself and dressed in his new attire. There was even a new mirror for him now so he could truly see how he appeared to others. He liked his new apparel, it fitted him well. It was now that he realized his hair was somewhat longer than that of the rest of the Elves at Court. He thought about it for a moment...then decided he preferred it as it was. This was his own small rebellion against one of the pettier things expected of him.

Whoever had had the clothes made for him had been careful to ensure the red embroidery was of exactly the same hue as his sash, so once he was fully dressed, he looked quite the part for an evening of having to be rather more Prince than warrior. Boots laced and spear in place, he was ready for whatever came next.

...

He made his way to the dining area so he could catch up with Ayla, Ecris and Oacma before they began their evenings work. He found them having already checked those who worked in the kitchen, all thankfully passing Ayla's scrutiny. They had set themselves up in the chosen room, Ayla and Oacma staying behind Ecris, who sat at a table with a ledger before him. There were already a few names written on the page, and next to them was a list of each person's birthclan and any skills they may have. Also, in one of the page margins was a small mark, indicating that this person had been seen by Ayla – and what her verdict had been.

It had been decided previously that should anyone not pass the test, they would be monitored by someone chosen specifically for the task. This would last for however long Nuada decided, depending on how big a threat they were considered to be. If the threat was great, the individual would be removed at the earliest opportunity that would not cause any kind of a disturbance to the rest of the population. Less urgent threats could be dealt with as necessary. It may even be possible to allow someone regarded as the lowest level of threat to become a carrier of false information to whomever had sent them. But at that precise moment, nothing of concern had been turned up by the Selkie.

The Prince was happy to let the others do their work and after having a bite to eat himself, he left them to their duties and made his way to another part of the palace.

...

Nuada walked into the Chamber which held the now unusable army of golden mechanical soldiers, his footfalls echoing around the huge expanse of carved stone. At the present moment he was alone. It was strangely eerie being here again. He now stood on the dais from where he and his sister had watched the Golden Army come to life and make their clunking way towards their new commander. He remembered the way the ground shook as the soldiers walked and the movement of the cogs and wheels before him, the magic of the goblins bringing life to their mechanical limbs.

Now this chamber held nothing but silence...and a host of inanimate collections of neatly connecting pieces of pure gold. Surely there must be something that could be done with them? Or at least with the metal from which they were cast? For an answer to this question, he needed to speak with the goblins who had crafted them in the first instance.

And now was the time for him to ask them in person.

It was not long before the clunking sound of crutches reached his ears along with voices uttering some form of gutteral speech, as the gnarled goblin smith entered the chamber, accompanied by eight others of his kind. They had already passed by Ayla as they arrived. Upon entering the chamber and seeing the Prince, they arranged themselves in a line before him and bowed ceremoniously.

He looked along the line at each one of them before speaking, recognizing some of them from the time of the army's construction, others he probably had not come into contact with at the time. But one of them he had seen since then and upon recognizing the goblin's face he smiled broadly.

'Oard! How long has it been, my friend?' he asked. 'I am glad to see you here with your brother Smiths.'

'It has been far too long, Sire!' said the goblin with a nodding bow and mirroring the Prince's smile. 'I believe the last time we met was when I undertook some repairs on your companion Wink's hand. How is that daft old troll anyhow? I am surprised not to see him at your side.'

Nuada's broad smile receded and his head dropped. 'I am afraid he fell in battle only a few days ago.' He lifted his head again wearing an expression of sad pride. 'He fought and died with honour, which is as he always said he wished to pass.'

Oard was greatly saddened by this news. He considered the troll to be a good friend too. 'I shall miss that daft old bugger! A good friend to have...a good friend,' he said nodding sadly with downcast eyes.

'Indeed he was...' said the Prince sadly. He sighed, knowing he had to get down to the business at hand. He did not want to keep the other goblins waiting too long. He knew better than to give them reason to be bad tempered. They were prone to make their work last much longer than necessary when the mood took them, whether it was for Royalty or not.

'Firstly, I would like to thank you all for attending this meeting,' he said with a courteous nod. 'I shall get straight to the matter for which I asked you here.' The direct approach was always best when dealing with the Smiths.

'I am sure that you have already been informed of the destruction of the crown that was wrought to control the Golden Army, so you will be well aware that as they stand, these soldiers are now of no use to us in their present form. As such, I would like you to tell me whether they can now be broken up and the gold reclaimed for other uses?' He looked along the line of goblins, his golden eyes resting on each of them for a second or two, gauging their expressions for a sign of a co-operative attitude. He knew some of them may bear a grudge against him for what happened between himself and his father, though there was also a measure of sympathy for him after the king had made the truce with the humans, knowing that Nuada was more than happy with the army they had created.

'Please feel free to discuss this amongst yourselves for a while. I know this will not be a straightforward matter to resolve,' he said and nodded his consent for them to speak openly to each other.

They bowed back in response, then formed a circle as they began to mutter between themselves, their voices rising slowly as they began to argue over the details. Nuada looked away and rolled his eyes, sighing to himself. This is how it always was with the goblins. No matter what they were involved in, a group of goblins would always argue about something or other. It was just in their nature. He knew he would have to be patient and let them hash it out until either they all agreed or a vote was taken on which answer to give. And he knew this was just the start of his evening with them. Each minute detail would be given the same treatment as they came to it. It could be a very long night for him.

As expected, the goblins were on form and argued over anything that could possibly be argued about, disagreement followed by agreement and then disagreement once again, but finally, and much to the Prince's great relief they had come up with a definitive answer to his question.

It had been decided that as the crown was now destroyed, there was no way they could re-weave the various spells which brought life to the soldiers and made them indestructible. As an army, the were, indeed, redundant. It was also decided that as a fortunate side-effect of the crown's destruction, the dark magic had begun to dissipate, slowly reverting to a totally neutral form of magical energy which was being absorbed back into the Earth once more.

And, as the magic was being neutralized, Bethmoora was cleansing itself of the poisonous effect it had had. Day-by-day, life would return to the palace. And this explained something that Nuada himself had an inkling of. It truly WAS getting brighter by minute degrees, just as he had first thought when last entering the training hall.

It appeared that as the dark magic left, the glamour that penetrated every surface of the palace would be released from the veil which had covered it and would begin to work as it should. The sunlight and moonlight would again be reflected deep within Bethmoora to bring a much needed respite from the gloomy shadows that now dominated its chambers, halls, and walkways.

All that was left to do was to decide what should be done with the gold from which the army was made. Though Nuada hated the idea, he knew it made a lot of sense for it to be used in obtaining things from the human's world, to reclaim things that had been taken from their own world through the ages of human onslaught,. There were many objects that were considered by the humans to have come from 'lost human civilizations', but were in fact wrought by the various Fey peoples of the world. Objects such as the missing crown piece that Nuada had himself reclaimed from the auction house on that fateful night, though payment on that occasion was somewhat more painful and bloody.

If anything could be found that was of intrinsic or magical value to the Fey, there was a possibility of bringing it back to its true home through using the gold to buy it, distasteful though the notion was of paying a human's petty monetary value for it. The humans very rarely realized if an object was imbued with magical energy, only recognizing an object as being of wonderful craftsmanship or of simply being beautiful or interesting to look at. Most of them seemed totally unable to see beneath the material surface of anything.

Nuada thought about all this for a few minutes, realizing that they had someone in their midst who may be able to help them in this quest, and probably with other concerns which may mean having to come into contact with humans in some way. He still could not stomach the idea of needing to deal with humans in any way, but the time would undoubtedly come when this may be the only option they had. At least now they would have something to help them that the humans seemed ever happy to take from those who possessed it.

It was now only a matter of deciding when to start, but this depended on how long it would take to get the goblin's massive forge operational again. They would have to go there together and then send word to the Prince once they had an approximate date for work to begin.

Nuada had also elected to keep one of the golden soldiers intact as a reminder to himself of what he had very nearly managed to do...and what it had cost him and his people. It would stand in the throne room, once it had been re-opened and readied for use. He knew he should always have it to look upon when he was making big decisions or having petitions made of him by his people, to always have it in his mind to think hard before making rash decisions that may have unwanted consequences. A lesson hard learned should not need to be repeated.

The goblins finally agreed on which day they should all go to the forge to begin assessing what needed to be done to get it ready for use, and they stood once again in a line before him, bowing as he dismissed them. They muttered between themselves once more as they left the chamber, but one had been asked to stay behind for a while, the Prince having some private business with him.

'Oard,' said Nuada addressing his old friend again. 'I have a personal commission that I would ask you to take on for me, as I have always admired your skill in crafting weaponry of the finest quality,' he said with a sad smile.

'I would be honoured, Sire.' replied the goblin with a bow. 'I have a feeling I may already know what your request is to be,' he said with a knowing smile of his own. 'A sword?'

'Indeed. It seems we are of the same mind,' said Nuada with a nod. 'A sword, made in honour of our mutual friend.'

The goblin nodded in acknowledgement. 'I gladly accept your commission, Sire. Do you have any particular motifs in mind for the detailing?'

'No, I trust your judgement in this. You knew him well yourself and I know you will do your best by him,' said the Prince with a small bow of thanks.

'Very well, Sire. I will begin work on it at my own forge when I return tonight. I thank you for your confidence in my skills...I will not let you down,' said Oard with a low bow.

'Thank you, my friend,' said Nuada, with a smile, patting the troll on the shoulder. 'I must let you get back to your forge, and return to my own duties,' he said with a sigh as he realized how late it was. 'I shall meet with you again soon.'

They walked together from the chamber, said their goodbyes, and parted company for the evening.

...

Nuada passed by the room in which Ecris, Ayla and Oacma had been working on their own tasks, but as he had expected, they had already returned to their rooms to sleep. It was very late and he was getting tired himself, so he walked slowly back to his own quarters, revelling in the peace of evening that had descended upon the palace, meeting very few others who were still awake, and greeted them with a nod of acknowledgement to each bow received.

He was just passing his sister's room when he noticed that the door was not quite closed and there was still a light shining within, so he knocked lightly. Nuala's voice came in answer and he entered to find her sitting beside the fire, gazing at the flames in contemplation.

'I knew you would be late returning from your meeting so decided to stay up and wait for you,' she said, looking up at him with a smile. 'Here,' she said picking up a cup from the hearth and handing it to him. 'I am sure you must need this after having to spend so long in discussion with the goblins.'

Nuada smiled and accepted the cup gratefully, sitting on the empty chair next to hers.

'I am glad you waited for me,' he said, gazing at his sister as her golden eyes reflected the flickering firelight. He took a sip of his drink and stared into the flames as he pondered what the next day held for them. 'I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow.' He looked back up to see Nuala gazing back at him.

'Good,' she replied with a sigh and a rather sad smile. 'We do still think as one at times it seems,' she said, her eyes sparkling slightly with tears that threatened to well, but she blinked them away. It was very hard for both of them to come to terms with being fully alone in their own minds. It was the loneliest feeling in the world, and there was probably no-one else who could understand how they felt.

'When we left Bethmoora,' she began, '...it was father himself who locked the doors, and I do not know the spell he used, and nor does anyone else. He insisted he be left alone to do it, and made us wait in the Chamber of Welcome. All I know is that as the portal closed behind us for the last time, he whispered something, but I only caught part of what he said...'

She gazed at her brother now, a strange expression on her face. 'He said "It is my choice, my Son..." I do not know what he meant by his words. He remained silent for days after.'

The two of them gazed into each other's eyes, both trying to understand their father's words, but neither of them having any real idea what they meant, though Nuada had an inkling what it may be.

He shook his head and turned back to the fire and sighed heavily. 'Perhaps Father was speaking of the Golden Army? he said quietly.

'Perhaps,' said Nuala, 'but I cannot be certain...' She gazed into the fire too, watching the bright orange flames flickering, the loud crackle of the wood burning the only sound to break the silence for some time.

Nuada finished his drink and set the cup back down on the hearth, then got to his feet. He was tired and his bed was finally calling him. 'Is there anyone else you would like to come with us when we try to open the doors?' he asked, not really sure if he wanted company or not.

She thought about it for a moment before answering. 'I think perhaps Ecris and Naeva should come too?' she said at last. 'Maybe they can help us to work out the enchantment Father used?'

It did seem like a sensible suggestion, Ecris being the Wisdom-Keeper and Mage of the Court, and also having been Balor's friend for most of the king's reign.

He took Nuala's hand in his. 'As you wish, Sister,' he said, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

They said their goodnights, and Nuada headed for the door, but as he opened it and was about to leave he felt Nuala's hand on his arm and turned to face her once more. He was surprised when she suddenly wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. 'I love you,' she whispered. He knew she was crying...and why. He put his arms around her and held her just as tightly, his own eyes now bright with tears. 'I love you too,' he whispered, stroking her hair gently. They would have to do this more often now. This was the only way they would truly know what the other was feeling. After a while they slowly pulled apart, and Nuada gently kissed Nuala on the cheek.

'Goodnight, Sister,' he whispered, and closed the door quietly behind him.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**Doors**

The sound of someone knocking on the door roused Nuada from his sleep, golden eyes suddenly wide open as a burst of adrenaline shot through him. He was already halfway out of bed with his hand tight on the grip of his spear before he remembered where he was. He was woken right in the middle of a vivid dream, a scene replayed from a memory of a time many years before. A time when he was being pursued by a strange and deadly beast. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly as he relaxed his hand and let go of the spear. The knock came again so he had to respond. 'Enter.'

The door opened and Nuala came in carrying a tray of food. 'Good morning, Brother,' she said with a smile. 'If you do not object, I thought it would be nice for us to eat together today.' She put the tray down on the table and sat on one of the chairs.

Nuada watched his sister as she walked over and sat down, at first a little surprised to see her there so early, though realizing she had probably had as disturbed a night's sleep as he had himself. Though tired, he had found it difficult to settle, so many memories clamouring for attention as soon as he closed his eyes. The opening of the Royal quarters was weighing heavily on both their minds and neither of them would find any true rest until they had managed to open the doors and once again walk through the corridors of their own past existence.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, then stood, stretched and began to dress. As he finished tying his sash around his waist, Nuala looked him up and down approvingly.

'I see the clothes are the right size,' said Nuala happily. 'I estimated quite well, did I not?'

'So it was you who had them made?' Nuada said with a smile, 'I thought perhaps it was, but I was not certain.' He walked over to his sister, leaned over and kissed her forehead softly. 'Thank you,' he said gently, 'it was very thoughtful. To be honest, I cannot remember the last time I had something new to wear. I had...other things on my mind for so long, I had not even thought about such matters as clothing.'

For a fleeting moment their eyes met and the shame Nuada felt about his previous obsession threatened to overwhelm him. He looked away again before his sister could glimpse the sorrow that seemed at all times to dwell just below the surface of his being nowadays.

He sat at the table with her and they shared a pleasant meal together, both trying to talk about anything other than what they had to do that day. There was so much emotion attached to the opening of the Royal quarters that they were both exceedingly glad that the other would be there for support.

A knock on the door told them that it was time, and they could put it off no longer. It was Ecris and Naeva, come to join the siblings in their quest to discover the spell used by their father to magically lock the doors behind him on the day of departure. Nuada reached across the table and squeezed his sister's hand gently, trying to reassure her that things would be alright, though in all honesty, he needed the contact just as much. He felt the tension growing as the time drew nearer, dreading the moment when he would be forced to physically revisit the scene of he and his father's last moments together before he went into exile.

He got to his feet and offered his hand to Nuala. She looked up at him and tried to give him a smile, but he could see it was rather forced as she tried to hide the sadness and apprehension she too was feeling. She took his hand and got to her feet too, and they walked to the door together to greet the Mages who waited patiently outside.

As Nuada and Naeva's eyes met, they were each glad to find that the usual jolt of energy they experienced was lessening considerably as they grew accustomed to seeing each other. But Nuada still felt strangely awkward when he saw her. He could not have explained it, even to himself. Perhaps it was just him still having to get used to the idea of having a human in their midst.

After the customary bows, the four of them left their temporary home and headed for the Royal quarters, Nuada and Nuala still holding hands, just as they had as children, trying to comfort each other. Nuala could feel the anxiety rising in her brother, his grip on her hand tightening unconsciously as they neared their destination.

The strange thing for Nuada was that he could also feel the same from his sister. He looked sideways at her, realising that the sensitivity that all Elves were born with was growing within him. He had all but cut himself off from it over the centuries, concentrating fully on the one link that he cared about – the unique one shared by himself and his sister since birth. Sensing other people's thoughts and emotions through this innate ability held no importance for him before, except in particularly rare and urgent circumstances. Nuala's own sensitivity was greater than most of her kind, something she had honed and perfected to the highest degree. This was something that had not even crossed his mind. So much was changing, in him, in their lives...in their world.

He wondered if she could tell what was happening, if she knew the changes in him were occurring, or how quickly...but he said nothing. He would wait and see if she mentioned it at some point in the future.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden halt of the Mages in front of them. They had reached the main doors to the Royal Quarters at last.

The doors were huge and made of Oak planks hewn from massive trees that had willingly given a limb for the purpose. The hinges were of iron, cast in the form of branches, stretching out from the ornately carved stone door posts and affixed to the front of the doors by heavy studs, also of iron, the head of each one in the form of the Royal Seal and as big as a man's fist. The handles were great iron rings, looking more suitable in size for a troll's large hands to manouvre than an Elf's, but they were activated purely by the touch of those who had uttered the password. No password, no entry.

Such was the basic problem facing those who stood before the doors now. The password had been changed by the King, this they knew because they tried the last one known to the Princess. But there were also additional magical locks added by Balor before he left, to ensure that whatever was inside remained protected.

'Ecris, Can you think of any particular wording that he would likely have added to his lock?' asked Nuada after they had tried every remembered password at least three times over. 'What is it that we have not though of?' A feeling of exasperation was beginning to surpass the anxiety that he had felt before.

'Sire, I can think of nothing that we have not already tried. I am as perplexed as yourself at our failure to gain entry.' The Mage looked at the doors as if they were hurling silent insults at him. 'Naeva, would you come back with me while I retrieve something?' he asked his new apprentice. 'It may help us if we do finally get past these doors,' he said, looking to the Prince for permission to go. Nuada nodded in response, then turned back to the doors as they left and headed for the living area again, talking quietly between themselves.

The twins stood there for what felt like some considerable time waiting for them to return, whilst trying hard to think if there could possibly be another password that they had forgotten.

Nuada's temper was rather short through lack of sleep. He could not understand the King's need to be so careful, and he vented his frustration by banging on the door with his fist and shouting. 'Why, Father? Why lock us out?' He paced the floor, trying to understand his father's reasons. Surely he would not have wanted to keep them all out if there was even the slightest possibility of someone returning to their home in the future, with or without him?

What if Nuala had had to come back for some reason? How would she have opened the doors on her own? He looked over to where she stood, gazing at them, deep in thought as she tried to remember something that may help. It was then that it dawned on him. Balor would never have wanted to keep Nuala out. Not gentle, obedient Nuala. He loved her dearly and would never have left her unable to get home without a good reason...but what about Nuada?

The realization hit him hard, and he felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. 'It is because of me,' he said, so quietly that his sister almost did not hear. She looked over to see her brother staring at the doors wearing an expression of utter sorrow, and was about to move to his side, but when he turned to look at her...something else in his eyes stopped her in her tracks.

Their father was trying to keep him out. He did not want his son to get back in to the home he had left when he had disagreed with his actions regarding the Golden Army. Nuada stared at the doors once more, his golden eyes darkening with each passing moment as in his mind he relived their last moments together on the other side of them, the words they had spat and bellowed at each other as Nuada raged against his father's decision. Then, unable to stop it, the awful events in the throne room replayed in his mind, and all the emotions regarding his father that he had buried for century upon century began to dig themselves out of the dark crevices they had been sealed in, clamouring for release at last.

Nuala was truly afraid now, not of her brother, but for him. With all that had happened to them since returning from the darkness together, she had feared the possibility of him being pushed too far emotionally before he had managed to find peace within himself. She had seen him at his worst, the look in his eyes...so close to the way they looked right now.

'Why did he hate me so much?' he asked, his voice not much more than a rasping whisper. 'What did I do?' He turned to his sister once more and her heart practically shattered within her at the look of sorrow in his eyes. She didn't know what she should or could say that would make a differenece to him now, knowing he would not hear her anyway.

'I was just a child...his child...and he would look at me as if I was nothing to him.' A tear ran down Nuala's cheek as she witnessed her brother's distress. She knew this would be the time that the cracks would appear in Nuada's emotional armour, and that is why she had been so apprehensive about coming here now.

'What was it I did, Sister?' he asked again. 'We are twins...so why did he see me so differently to you?' He turned away from her and glared at the doors, imagining their father standing before them creating the lock that would keep him from truly coming home.

Nuada was finding it difficult to breathe, his throat tightening and his heart pounding in his chest as if it threatened to tear itself assunder. His fists clenched tight shut as he tried to control himself, as if trying to hold on to something to stop himself being swept away by a storm tide...but it was useless. He felt like something snapped inside him and launched himself at the door, his fists connecting with the wood with a loud thud. 'Why Father!' he roared, 'Why did you hate me so much?'

He truly had no idea what he had done and it was tearing him apart. He turned away again and Nuala thought he was calming, but he spun round and punched the door with all his might, the doors rattling loudly with the impact. 'I LOVED YOU!' he roared, his voice cracking with emotion.

Nuala watched, feeling totally helpless as her brother sank to his knees before the doors with his head bowed, his eyes tight shut, refusing to allow tears to come. Nuala moved closer to her brother now. She could hear the slow patter of something dripping onto the flagstones before him and could see that blood was running from his knuckles which were raw from hitting the wooden doors so hard.

Nuada reached out and pressed his palms against the doors, then leaned forward and rested his head against them. 'I always loved you, Father,' he whispered, barely audible, 'Always.'

It was now that Ecris and Naeva returned. Nuala had heard their footsteps drawing nearer, speeding up as the sound of Nuada's raised voice reached their ears. As they came into view, they could see him kneeling before the doors with Nuala standing close by, her hand now on his shoulder as she tried to comfort him.

Naeva was shocked to see him in such a state of emotional crisis. She had never been able to imagine him as anything other than fiercely strong, even when weighed down with sadness, as he had been in the throne room that day. But this...

Ecris moved to his side and placed a hand on his other shoulder. 'Come, Nuada,' he said gently. 'Perhaps we should leave this for now. There is always another day.' Nuada sighed heavily, lifted his head away from his hands and began to stand, reaching for one of the iron rings to pull himself up.

As his hand made contact with the metal, a sound like a long, loud sigh could be heard coming from the doors...and they began to slowly move apart, gliding silently open until they bumped into the stops at each side with a dull thud.

The four of them stood and stared into the dark void before them, no-one knowing exactly what had just happened, but it had obviously had something to do with whatever Nuada had said or done. Ecris looked at him and shook his head, frowning.

'Naeva,' he said turning to his apprentice, 'come with me and we shall gather some torches.' Naeva nodded and followed him down a corridor that led from the open area before the doors and before long they returned with four of them, ready to use.

Ecris nodded to Naeva, nudging her to try to light them. It was one of the easier magical tasks he had set her to learn during the last day. She opened her eyes rather wide at being asked to attempt it now, in front of people, but she knew she would have to do it one day, so she moved her hand towards the torch she held whilst concentrating on what she wanted to happen, and said the word Ecris had taught her. 'Lasair!' Her eyes widened in surprise as the torch suddenly sparked into life, not at all expecting it to work with everyone's eyes on her. She turned to her teacher and grinned, her eyes sparkling with joy at accomplishing this small feat first time. Ecris smiled back and nodded happily. She was going to be a fast learner, her previously latent magical ability perhaps more potent than he had estimated before.

Before long, each of them held a lighted torch. Nuada looked over to Nuala and took hold of her hand once more and she grasped it tightly, trembling slightly he noted. He turned to Ecris now.

'We should go first to father's chambers. We need to see why he was so careful with his locks,' he said quietly. 'If we are to know for sure, that is where we are likely to find the answer.' Ecris nodded in agreement, and they set off together towards the King's private rooms.

When they came to the main door of the suite of rooms, they found it locked also. Ecris was able to help with this particular problem. He reached into a pouch tied to his belt and pulled out a long, slender crystal. 'This will open the door if there are no magical locks in place.' He pushed the crystal slowly through the key hole, and once it had passed all the way through to the other side of the door, the lock clicked loudly.

As he put the crystal away carefully, Nuada let go of Nuala's hand and turned the handle, the door opening with a slight creak. 'I was waiting for someone to bring my belongings back so I could retrieve this crystal. I hoped to have it returned earlier, but at least we have it now,' said the Mage with a sigh.

Nuada hesitently walked into the large semi-circular hallway to be faced by four more doors. The one on the far left led to the bedroom, bathroom and dressing room. The one next to it led to the King's private meeting room where he would receive personal visitors, Court officials and those bearing private messages, etc. The one on the far right led to the 'real' War Room, where the truly important decisions were made regarding all military action. Only those of the absolute highest rank would be given direct access to the King in this chamber. That left the door at centre-right of the hallway. This was where the King kept all his truly private and personal paperwork and effects. Only family ever entered this room, and only ever with him present.

This was the room Nuada thought would yield the most information that would be relevant to them at this precise moment. He handed Ecris his torch, walked forward and reached for the door handle, but before he could touch it a small voice sounded close to his ear. 'Just you.' He jerked his hand away and stepped back, startled by the sudden sound. Everyone jumped in surprise as a small, wispy looking fairy appeared in mid-air right in front of the Prince, delicate wings fluttering furiously to keep the fey steadily in one place.

'Who...?' he asked, a look of shock on his face, 'How did you...?' He was almost dumbfounded by the fairy's appearance.

'Who am I and how did I stay hidden from your view? she said, finishing his sentence for him. 'I am Adien.' She smiled broadly, 'And this is how I remained invisible!' she said, and she produced a crystal of her own, a tiny, tear-shaped, clear crystal with a silvery sheen.

Nuada stared at it as it lay in the fairy's hand, as did the rest of the group who had now moved close enough to see it properly. The fairy's eyes widened as she beheld the human in their midst, warily moving back a little, but as she looked into Naeva's eyes she seemed to register something within her and she relaxed again.

'A tear charm!' said Ecris in amazement. 'They are the rarest charm to be found in this realm! Where did you get it?' he asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

'King Balor entrusted it to me before he left,' the fairy replied.

They looked at the small fairy for a few moments, before Nuada spoke again. 'How did you survive here alone for so long?'

'The King wove a sleep charm. It would only be broken once the door to his rooms had been opened. He knew you would come one day,' she said, looking to both Nuada and his sister in turn, smiling widely. 'How long has it been?' she asked. 'For me it has been only moments since I fell asleep.'

'It has been a long, long time, my dear,' said Ecris. 'The humans have their own calendar now and it has surpassed the 2000 year mark,' he said looking to Naeva with a little smile. He turned again to the fairy who seemed to take the news rather well, considering.

'Really?' she asked with a slightly surprised look, but not really shocked. 'I had no need to stay awake for all those years. I have no family left to miss me,' she said with a sigh and a sad look in her eyes. Naeva felt rather uncomfortable, knowing that it was probably humans who had killed her kin, but that was a very, very long time before she was born. She was slowly learning to push the feelings of guilt to one side. As Ecris had always said to her since the day they met, 'A bad mother can bring forth a good child.'

Nuada regarded the diminuitive fairy for a moment. 'You said I should be the only one to enter the room,' he said with a slight frown. 'This was my father's wish?' he asked quietly, realizing his father was not trying to keep him out after all. In fact he knew he would come. This was a great shock to him after all he had felt before.

'It was,' Adien answered with a small bow.

Nuada looked from Ecris to Nuala and back again, being completely at a loss for words.

'He said he had left you something inside that would answer your questions and he wanted you to go in alone at first. He said you would understand in time,' said the fairy. 'I have a password for you,' she said and she flew right up to his ear and whispered so that not even Ecris or Nuala would be able to hear.

The Prince took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He felt just as he had when he was young and was summoned by his father, not knowing what how he would be received from one day to the next but always assuming the worst.

'Very well, I shall go first,' he said, turning to his sister and squeezing her hand. He could sense she was feeling nervous too and gave her a small smile to try to reassure her, but the deep sadness was still plain to see in his eyes and she squeezed his hand back, wishing for all the world that she could talk to him the way they had before. Without their link, he would be truly alone when he discovered whatever lay inside the room and she worried for him.

He let go of her hand and the fairy moved to one side so that he could open the door. He reached out and turned the handle as he thought the password as instructed and the latch clicked, the door opening as he pushed. It was pitch dark inside and he retrieved his torch from Ecris and walked in, turning to the others for a moment once inside. They all nodded to him and took a few steps back. He hesitently nodded back and slowly closed the door behind him.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29 – Forgotten Words**

The room was just as Nuada remembered it. It was large and dominated by a huge round table in the centre. There were four chairs around it, one for each member of the family. He walked over to the table and laid a hand gently upon the back of one of the chairs. This was one that no-one ever sat in...not since their mother had died. He stroked the wood sadly. He could not remember his mother properly as the twins were extremely young when she died.

Closing his eyes he tried hard to see her in his mind, but all he could bring forward were fleeting and indistinct pictures which merged into one another and he could not focus on the detail. He sighed and opened his eyes again, wishing he could reclaim at least one small part of his mother to hold onto, but it was useless he knew. He had given up trying centuries ago because of the feelings of loneliness he was left with after failing time and time again.

He turned and held the torch up high so he could get a better look at the room and upon seeing a torch or two in sconces on the walls, he lit them and found an empty sconce in which to place the one he held, leaving his hands free to investigate the room's contents properly.

There were shelves full of books that the king had decided not to take with him, and rolled up scrolls of paper by the dozen lying here and there as if he had just put them down for a moment whilst looking for something else. There was also a large and ornately carved trunk which he remembered having always been there since he was a tiny child. He had never been allowed to open it, even when he had reached manhood.

He frowned at seeing it now. This is where he decided he would probably find anything of importance. Walking over to it he realized it would probably be locked, but tried it anyway. It was indeed locked. He was just considering borrowing Ecris's crystal but then he looked over to the table again – and a key was there on top of a sheet of paper.

Picking up the key left an outline of it in the thick dust that had settled on everything in the room, revealing that there was writing on the paper. He put the key down on the table and lifted the paper, gently shaking it to remove the worst of the dust then brushing the rest off with his fingers. The writing was in his father's hand. He began to read:

'Nuada, My Son,

I write this in the hopes that one day you will be here to read it as was foretold.

It has been so long since my eyes beheld you, but when closed I can see your face before me as if it were only yesterday that you left. I do not truly know which words to use so I hope with all my heart that you will understand my thoughts.

This key will open the carved trunk, the contents of which will hopefully, in time, allow you to open your heart to the truths that I try to express here.

I know it shall be your eyes that fall upon this page and no-one else's, and that as you read, I shall have fallen into darkness.

The manner and time of my death was not revealed to me, only that it would come about by your hand. But know this also, my son. This has come to pass by my own choice.

Please believe me when I say to you that forgiveness is not required from me for your actions, but rather I am hoping that you can find forgiveness in your own heart for me, for my not telling you of this. But for me there was no choice to make. If any of this had been disclosed to you, I would have lost you forever and I am not willing to accept that loss if I can prevent it.

I beg you not to carry guilt for what has happened. You have carried the burden of my hatred for the humans as your own, and I know you have suffered greatly because of it and it shames me beyond words. Do not add to that burden unnecessarily.

Once you have revealed the contents of the trunk you will understand my words and I hope you will also believe one final truth that I have until now, and to my eternal shame, never been able to show you – that I love you, my son.

I can only hope that in time you will find it in your heart to forgive me for not being the father that you have always deserved.

As he read each sentence his heart ached more and more. He had to sit down as he feared his legs would give way beneath him, the weight of the words more than his heart could carry.

'He KNEW!' he said aloud, though there was no-one there to hear him. His mind was reeling as each word sank in. He looked over to the trunk as he read, wondering what on Earth it could hold.

But it was the final few lines that truly broke him, the words he had always wished to hear his father say to him in person, to his face. His father had loved him. Despite all the harsh words or cold looks or the lack of warmth in any of their time spent together, his father had truly loved him as well as his sister.

His eyes stung with unshed tears. 'Why could he never say the words to me himself?' he thought as he read. 'Why did he never give me the chance to say those words back to him?' He placed the paper back down on the tabletop and covered his face with his hands, his eyes closed tight as he tried to desperately to keep the tears at bay, but he could not and they slowly traced down his cheeks.

He felt sorrow, joy, confusion, and clarity all at once. He did not know how his heart continued to keep pumping or his lungs to keep breathing as his body tried desperately to cope with the shock of what his mind had just absorbed.

Nuada sat for a long time just trying to keep from screaming out in pain as his heart felt like it was going to burst with the conflicting emotions he was now feeling.

Eventually, after he had calmed himself enough to think or breathe without it being an immense effort, he slowly got to his feet and picked up the key and walked over to the chest. Kneeling down beside it he pushed the key into the lock and turned it. It opened with a click and he was able to finally lift the lid and reveal what lay inside.

The first thing to meet his eyes was his father's sword. It lay on top of a host of other things, but Nuada reached in and picked it up first, slowly getting back to his feet as he held it in his hand, heavy and cold against his palm. He took hold of the hilt and drew it from its sheath, the blade rasping as it was brought out into the light for the first time in thousands of years. It was a beautiful weapon, still razor sharp, the tracery of the engraving upon its surface still crisp as the day it was made, each glyph and magical symbol clearly visible and still imbuing the sword with their power.

In memory he could see his father standing before him as he was when he was just a child, tall and regal and fierce, this sword at his waist, ready to go out and face the humans in battle. Nuada could remember the pride he felt whenever he saw his father this way and wanting to be just the same.

He also thought about what he had said to his father when they faced each other for the last time back in the makeshift throne room. 'You were once a proud warrior...when did you become their pet?' He so wished he had not said those words, but at the time, he truly did not understand how his father could have simply given in to the humans the way he had.

He sighed heavily and re-sheathed the blade then knelt beside the trunk again. There were many papers, pouches and boxes inside the trunk still to explore. He removed the topmost box which was quite large and carefully opened it. His eyes widened in surprise. Inside lay a circlet of gold, a thing of beauty formed to grace the head of a woman, a queen...his mother. He had only ever heard tell of it before, having no memory of his mother and his father never having brought it out after she had been killed by the humans.

It was as beautiful as he had been told, a band consisting of strands of yellow and white gold woven together in swirls and spirals with delicate filigree ivy leaves which were studded with tiny diamonds, pearls and pieces of green stone that Nuada recognized as coming from shooting stars that had fallen to earth. The diamonds, pearls and stones were gifted for the making of the circlet from each elemental kingdom of their realm, the diamonds given by the denizens of the earth, the pearls from the various sea fey and the stones a symbolic gift from the ethereal fey, some of whom still existed though they were rarely seen now. They had found it almost impossible to survive in the last few hundred years of human activity. The gold itself was given by the fey who considered themselves to belong to the elemental kingdom of fire, the drakes, fire imps and others.

He closed his eyes and imagined Nuala wearing the circlet and he smiled sadly. Everyone said she looked very like their mother. She would look simply beautiful and it was right that she should have it now. He closed the box and placed it carefully on to a small table which stood beside the chest. After that he opened each box and pouch in turn and scanned each piece of paper for something that would explain his father's letter, but as he reached the bottom of the chest he had found nothing that warranted anything but a cursory glance until he and his sister had time to examine them fully.

He frowned as he considered he must have missed something but as he was about to replace the contents of the chest he noticed one of the wooden slats that lined the sides seemed a little loose. He reached in and managed to pry it away from the sides using his fingernails and as it came away he could see that a piece of folded paper lay behind it. This must be what his father had been so carefully trying to conceal from him and everyone else. Tentatively, he pulled the paper from its hiding place and stood up. He stared at the paper in his hand for a moment or two then walked over to the table and sat down feeling apprehensive about what may be written on it. Slowly he unfolded it to reveal writing in a hand he did not recognize.

It was a transcript of a prophecy. He remembered Ecris mentioning a prophecy being made early in his father's reign and realized this must be it.

He took a deep breath and read. The prophecy did indeed state that Balor would have a son and he was destined to take his life. But, it also said that if the son had ever been made aware of this, the reverse would happen and Balor would face his son in battle and kill him. This is what proved to Nuada that his father's last words in his letter were true. He had made sure this prophecy was kept secret from his son so that he would never have to face him across a battlefield and fulfil the worst destiny any father could have. It would have meant the death of his son and his daughter at the same moment. Just for a split second, the old doubts crossed his mind...was it for Nuala's sake alone that Balor had made this decision? But no. The decision was made to hide the prophecy from all eyes and memories long before the twins were even conceived.

But what of Nuada? He remembered his father's face as he stood before him having fought and killed most of the guards and having only two more to fight. The way his father had smiled and opened his arms to him as if welcoming what was to happen – and now he knew why. Part of him was happy that his father had loved him enough to die instead of him. But another was wishing he did not have to remember the images of his father's face as he died, to remember how it felt when the blade pierced his ribcage. These would haunt him every single day he drew breath.

Is this why his father had been so seemingly harsh towards him? Was it the knowledge that he had to choose between killing his son, or being killed by him? This was a burden Nuada was not sure he would have been able to bear himself. In his heart he imagined having to live, day by day, with the fear that his own child may be made aware of the prophecy, either by accident or even by design of someone bearing a grudge or having ulterior motives. What would he have done? Possibly he would have tried to keep this knowledge from everyone, and perhaps even distance himself from the child concerned to ensure that such an accidental mention never happened. He knew only too well that things later regretted were said during the heat of an argument. It would almost be better to simply not interact with the child at all...

He closed his eyes and sighed raggedly as he finally gained the understanding his father had hoped he would. Balor did not hate him. He loved him so much that he was willing to cut himself off from all the love and happiness that should have been theirs, so that Nuada may live.

A feeling of utter wretchedness washed over him. This was one of fate's most cruel weavings. Where was the balance that was supposed to permeate the whole of the Universe? He could see no balance between sorrow and joy in this instance, or in the way his world had unravelled before his eyes as the humans spread across the Earth. Where was the light of happiness that should counter the darkness of his despair? Was he fated to always watch others bask in the sunshine while he travelled in shadow? To always feel so alone...?

'What is the point of it all?' He wondered to himself. 'Why exist purely to feel this pain and nothing more?' He began to imagine what would happen to his people if he were no longer there... They still had Nuala... they would be alright... But what of Bres? If he was able to remove the threat that his uncle posed, his people, under Nuala's rule, would be no worse off than they were now, then...

He saw no other purpose for his own existence... perhaps Nuala was right... to just fade away and leave all the pain behind... he remembered the oblivion of death...and suddenly it seemed to almost beckon him like a lover...

Never had he felt this way before. He had always had a reason, a cause, a will to survive. But this was something new to him. He saw before him nothing but more pain, more blood and nothing to show at the end of it but a bleak half-life, forever directing the lives of others whilst having nothing else to fill his days.

Perhaps it would have been better for both he and his father if he had found out about the prophecy. They would still have Balor. What of Nuala? She would most likely have died at the same moment as he. Is it possible that if they had died then, she would have stayed connected to him as they both fell into darkness together? Even that had been denied him in the Golden Army chamber, and would again at the end of this new existence now that their link was broken.

The humans had a saying, 'In the midst of life, we are in death'. He had never really felt he understood that line before, always feeling life everywhere around him, even in the human's cities to some degree. But now... It seemed death haunted him at every turn, a great, dark spectre always reaching out to him, demanding he deliver another soul to its keeping, waiting to claim his own in time.

He opened his eyes and stared once more at the paper before him. There was more for him to read. He blinked a few times to clear his tear-misted vision and prepared himself for the rest of the words, expecting them to do nothing to alleviate the depth of his anguish.

However. The rest of the prophecy held far more promise than he could possibly have hoped for.

It stated that once the Royal House had been reborn, there would be trials to overcome, but the hopes of their people would be reborn too. He remembered the words of Naeva's prophecy, the one made since his symbolic 'rebirth' and things began to look that much less dire. As the two seemed to correlate, he started to see that there may be hope of a brighter future...at least for his people.

He had never allowed his feelings self-doubt and sorrow to overwhelm him like that before, and he did not like it. Not one bit. He had succumbed to hatred and anger, but never this.

Everything he had ever done was for his people. That is what he must focus on. He held no illusions about what his own life would consist of...but duty was all he had left. That was what he had to hold on to. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling slowly, calming himself once again. He would do all within his power to help his people to regain at least a small measure of what they had lost...after that...he would just have to wait and see.

Self-pity was not his style. He refused to give another moment of his existence to it. He pushed all the emotions deep inside, resolving never to allow them to surface again.

The prophecy went on, and as he read his eyes widened in surprise. It stated that he would meet someone who could help him in his forthcoming quests, someone who would guide him to the whereabouts of another who will help to fulfil his destiny...to save his people from destruction...and two names were written on the page before him, both of which stunned him, though the first of the two was the most shocking. Naeva. It mentioned her. The human. BY NAME!

Now he understood why Balor had been so willing to allow a human to remain at the court with them and not simply to heal her and help her on her way to a new life after her revelation had saved them. This was probably something Nuala knew nothing about, though Ecris must have known. He was there when the prophecy was made. It must have been so very hard for him to remain silent when Naeva was first brought to the Court by Maiyor and the others that day. He could also imagine the fervent private discussions that his father and Ecris must have had on her arrival.

The next name was one he recognized from his own past. Sanshara. But he had been sure she was dead! Their paths had crossed many times through the centuries, but she had suddenly disappeared, no-one hearing of her again. He had in fact first met her before he had left to live in exile. She, too, was an Elf.

He and his comrades had been called to arms after the humans had discovered the whereabouts of the healing sanctuary where she lived with others of her order. The humans had slaughtered many Fey that day and Sanshara had gone back to try to help others escape, only to be cornered herself. The healer had been overcome by her sorrow and rage and had used her power to kill many of the humans before Nuada and the warriors had arrived...and it had cost her dearly.

She had been forced to change her life completely, to become a Warrior Mage, a Wanderer. She and others of her kind whose lives had been destroyed in this way had become less suited to the work as a healer and instead were given other duties, being particularly employed for tracking missing Fey or hunting down their enemies...and destroying them if they could. Though always, of course, staying within the bounds of Balor's truce, just as Nuada himself had.

He thought back to his conversation with Naeva and the others about those who were allowed to bear arms. He had not thought of this small group of his people then and neither had anyone else as they were all thought to have perished centuries ago. But seeing this now...perhaps at least one of their kind still lived...somewhere.

He had learned more in this room than he could possibly have imagined he would. The shock of it all had left him reeling, and he sat for some time trying to get his mind to grasp it all.

After he had gathered his thoughts enough, he decided it was time to leave the room and speak to the others...and to reveal the prophecy. He stood and picked up the two pages that lay before him on the table, one he kept in his hand – the other he stowed inside his overjacket. This was a personal note from father to son...and he wanted it to remain private, at least for now. He was still totally overwhelmed by the contents of both pages and needed to discuss the prophecy with those he trusted.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30 – Turning the Page**

As Nuada walked towards the door, he picked up the box containing the circlet that he had found in the trunk. He wanted Nuala to have it now. It was just too beautiful and important a thing to be left locked in a box forevermore. It was meant to grace the head of their mother and he knew that having something of hers would mean the world to his sister. They had nothing to remember her by before as their father had remained almost totally silent on the matter of her death or even her life as they grew up.

When he opened the door he found the others waiting patiently outside, talking quietly to their new friend Adien and getting to know her better. They all turned to face him as he walked from the room, wondering why Balor had been so insistent that he go inside on his own. He knew what they wanted to know and held out the page on which the prophecy was written and Ecris looked to the Prince, knowing that a lot of it would have been extremely hard to take in and accept in such a short time. The truly personal letter from his father he kept to himself. Nuada knew that this was why his father had wanted him to enter the room alone, knowing how his son would most likely take the revelation. It was only fair that he be able to do this in private.

'I am sorry,' Ecris said apologetically. 'I swore an oath of silence to your father...I could not tell you, or anyone else...' he said, giving a sideways glance to Naeva, knowing that the prophecy would probably shock her just as much, if not more. He hoped that she would be able to forgive him for staying silent. They had been very close all the years she had been with the Court and he did not want their friendship to suffer because of an oath he took thousands of years before she was even born.

Nuada saw Ecris's worried look and glanced at Naeva also. 'Please do not worry, my friend,' he said reassuringly. 'I know why you could speak to no-one of it...and I thank you.' He laid his hand on his heart and bowed to the Wisdom Keeper in acknowledgement. He hoped that Naeva would feel the same.

He turned to Nuala and held the box out to her. She looked from him to the box and back again in askance. 'You should have this, Sister,' he said with a sad smile. 'It was mother's...'

She hesitantly took the box from him and opened it, her eyes widening as she beheld its contents. 'Oh...' she said quietly, her eyes suddenly bright with tears. 'Mother's circlet...' She gazed at Nuada and they shared a sad smile that spoke volumes to the others present. 'Thank you, Nuada,' she said as she closed the box again, and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. 'But what of you, brother? Have you nothing of hers for yourself?' she asked with a small frown.

He gazed back at her and smiled. 'All I need is to see you wearing this, and it shall be more than enough for me,' he said taking her hand and kissing it gently. Nuala nodded and smiled back and sighed, happy at his answer.

Nuada now turned to the tiny fairy. 'Adien, I wish to thank you for your willingness to stay here alone, for our benefit.' The diminutive form flitted across the hallway to hover before him, so he held his hand out to her and she alighted on his palm. He handed the page to Ecris for now and held the index finger of his now free hand out to her. She reached out and placed her own tiny hand upon his finger and solemnly curtseyed to the Prince, which caused a gentle smile to form on his lips. He was very fond of the smaller Fey, and always felt incredibly protective towards them. They were so delicate and beautiful, and were some of the first of his people to begin suffering as the humans swamped their pristine home, turning it into a wasteland one piece at a time.

Nuada had suspected that Adien did not know what had befallen Balor and felt a huge twinge of guilt as she stood there on his palm, looking at him with bright eyes the colour of aquamarine. How would she feel about him after she found out, he wondered. But he did not have to wonder for long.

'I can sense what you are thinking, Sire,' she said, smiling sadly up at him. Nuada was shocked. There were not many of the smaller Fey who could actually do this. 'Do not fear, Balor felt I deserved to know more than anyone else had about the prophecy. He said he should trust me with it seeing as I was to remain here for an indefinite time, so that I would know exactly why he asked me to do it.'

She smiled up at Nuada and walked forward so as to be a little closer to him. 'Balor told me what would happen between you...why he would not return to wake me himself.' Nuada held his breath, waiting for the fairy to say what was on her mind. 'He also told me that it was his will that it should happen, and that you were not to be blamed or given cause to feel guilt for it. As such, I will fulfil a pledge I made to him on that day...' She knelt down and solemnly swore her loyalty to him, very much as Naeva had done. Nuada was again taken aback by this. He had expected her to feel hatred towards him, but the fairy had once again proven to him that his actions were far from unexpected, but in fact required to complete the prophecy.

She got back to her feet and spoke to him again. 'Balor was sure that if the prophecy had been revealed to you, then the fate of our people would be far worse than it has already proven to be...' She glanced at the others who had informed her of the dire state of their world. She turned back to the Prince, '...and he was also sure that you are probably the last hope we have to survive.'

He took these last words in, almost unable to believe them. Indeed there was no mention in the prophecy of saving the Fey if Balor had killed him instead. That Balor had taken it to mean his people would suffer and die out completely if he lived said a lot about the inner strength his father had. To decide to die rather than allow others to was a great and noble thing. He glanced at Naeva for a moment, not forgetting that she had made basically the same decision only a few days before. And she was not strictly even of their people. He felt humbled by both her and his father at that moment.

'Adien,' said Nuada at last, 'I thank you for telling me this. I only hope that I may prove worthy of the faith my father put in me. Though I wish I could have told him so myself...' he added sadly.

Nuala was at a loss to understand the huge change in Nuada and the way he now spoke of their father, and she stood beside him wearing an expression that showed her confusion.

'Sister, you should read the prophecy for yourself,' he said glancing at Ecris, who nodded and held the page out to her. She took it and handed the box to Nuada again for the moment. Nuada watched her face intently as she read, her expression changing slightly with each new piece of information. When she was done, she looked into her brother's eyes and knew what he must be feeling after learning what was written there.

She reached out and took Nuada's hand and squeezed it gently. 'I see now why it has all come to pass the way it has...that it was meant to be this way.' She looked over to Naeva, one of her closest friends, and realized she would be utterly shocked by what was written on the page. But she felt it was time for her to know the truth also. She glanced at Ecris and he nodded to her, still looking worried as to what Naeva's reaction would be. Nuala approached Naeva and held the paper out to her now. 'Naeva,' she said with a gentle smile, 'it seems that you also have the right to read this.'

The new Mage stared at the Princess for a moment in bewilderment. 'Wha...? What have I to do with any of this?' she asked in surprise. 'Surely I have no bearing on any matters that concern this kingdom?' She looked from Nuala, to Ecris and then to Nuada, trying to understand what was being said.

Nuada moved to stand before Naeva and took the page from his sister. 'It appears you have more to do with the fulfilment of our people's destiny than you or I could have imagined. Please, this may actually help to clarify some things for you.' He looked over to Ecris, knowing his friend's anxiety was growing by the second. 'I have found it shows that true friendship can mean not disclosing the truth...even at the risk of losing that friendship because of it.'

She followed his gaze to see Ecris's worried expression. He was trying very hard to hide it but was failing miserably. She frowned a little as she took the page from Nuada and began to read for herself. The Elves watched her, wondering how she would take it.

She had been taught by Ecris to read passages from texts that were written in the Old Tongue. She was a little hesitant with some of the words, but mostly she could understand it well enough. They could tell when she got to the part that mentioned her as her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open in shock. She closed her eyes tight and opened them again in astonishment, then looked around at the Elves and Adien. Her eyes settled on Ecris, who looked thoroughly miserable with anxiety at what her impending words would be. She held the page out absent-mindedly for one of the twins to take from her, not really thinking, and stepped before the Wisdom Keeper, looking up at him with sad eyes.

He was sure she must feel betrayed by his silence all these years, so when she suddenly threw her arms around him and hugged him tight his eyes nearly popped out of his head in surprise. 'Oh, my poor Ecris!' she said, her voice shaky, 'how hard it must have been to keep all this to yourself for so long.'

He wrapped his own arms around her protectively and kissed the crown of her head. 'I was afraid you would no longer wish to call me friend, that you would think me false and untruthful.' His relief was palpable.

'No, no, never!' said Naeva as she now pulled away from him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. 'You saved me from my own despair when we first met. I thought my life was worth nothing at that moment and you made me feel like I was actually wanted and loved. I had not felt that way since my parents died. Without you I would probably be dead, Ecris...how could I ever think so badly of you?'

There were relieved sighs and smiles all round as the two friends hugged again. They had learned so much in the last few hours and it would take a while for all the implications to be worked out.

Nuada and Nuala decided to investigate the rest of their father's suite of rooms and asked the Mages and Adien to accompany them as they may be able to give advice on subjects which the siblings felt they were too close to to be objective in their views. The bedroom was as they expected, all the personal effects had been taken with him when he left, but the larger items that they could not take at the time had been left behind, including the carved wooden bed that their parents had first shared after their marriage and in which Balor had been forced to sleep alone with just memories during the night after her death.

His private reception room was the same, only large pieces of furniture remained.

The most interesting room for Nuada was the War Room. This was still as it was the last time he had entered. There were charts left lying on the large table in the centre of the room around which those Balor most trusted would meet to discuss the most sensitive information concerning the military capability of his people, and most importantly their vulnerabilities.

He had himself been one of those who were summoned to meet in this room, to discuss how things were progressing in the wars with the humans and to give valuable insight into strategies and newly gathered intelligence. He remembered how proud he had been the first time his father had requested his presence in the War Room. He was very much younger than any of his predecessors in gaining the rank of Silverlance and it had taken the other Elves of the War Council by surprise when he had entered the room. He recalled their astounded expressions and it made him smile, but it was his father's expression that had stayed with him most. A look of pride had crossed his face also and fleeting though it was it had meant more to Nuada than the praise given by his old Weapons Master or even that of his closest friends. Perhaps it was because it was such an infrequent occurrence, but maybe also because he could actually see it in his father's eyes, as plain as day, not just something half-imagined or half-wished for as was usually the case.

Nuala was walking around the room picking up charts and written reports from those who led the warriors from the front lines of combat. There were stacks upon stacks of these reports and they were all dire reading. She was about to put one down after glancing at it but something caught her eye. It was Nuada's own name, and the entry next to it made her blood run cold in her veins.

She watched her brother as he walked slowly around the table moving papers around and glancing at their contents just as she had been. He looked calm, and possibly even content, something she had not expected to see at least for a very long time...or perhaps never again. But the words on the page spoke of another time which may possibly have been one of the worst experiences of his life.

And he had never spoken of it to her. Ever.

Nuala stood and stared at her brother, her hand shaking slightly. Naeva had just entered the room with Ecris, Adien flitting in close behind. She saw the look on her friend's face and rushed over to her.

'What is it, Princess?' she asked worriedly. She could see the report in her hand. 'Nuala?' she asked again, trying to gently encourage Nuala to speak to her. By now Nuada had seen what was going on and was coming to his sister's side, also looking worried.

'Sister?'

Nuala looked as if she'd just seen a terrible spectre in the room with them and it had stolen her voice away, but finally she managed to speak...

'They thought you were...dead...' she said quietly, her eyes brimming with tears, '...and yet no-one said anything of it to me!' Nuada's face dropped. He took the report and read it, though he already knew what it contained. He closed his eyes and swallowed as he remembered the events which culminated in this report being written. It was a terrible time and he had tried hard to erase it from his memory, but it appeared it was merely buried along with the other things he had tried hard to forget.

Nuada took a deep breath and opened his eyes to look upon his sister's face. 'Yes, Nuala. They were convinced I had been killed in battle. But I was not, so do not think on it anymore. We have more positive things to consider now,' he said gently, trying to veer away from this subject as quickly as possible. But Nuala was not willing to let it go quite yet.

No-one knew what would have happened if one of the twins had actually died when so far from the other. It was decided that it was possible that the other may have become dangerously ill, or perhaps even died in time, but that was by no means a foregone conclusion. As such, she could only imagine their father's anguish upon receiving this notification from the battle lines.

'I wish to know about it, Nuada. Please, do not change the subject!' Nuala was quite fierce in her demand and though Ecris and Naeva were rather surprised, Nuada was not. He had faced that fierceness on countless occasions as they grew up.

He sighed resignedly and took Nuala's hand. 'Very well. But not now.' He glanced across to Ecris and Naeva. 'I shall tell all of you tonight after we have eaten. I expect Ecris will know more of what was happening here at the time than I have been told,' he said looking to his old friend. Ecris nodded in response. As the Wisdom Keeper and the King's advisor, and most importantly his friend, he had been by Balor's side through all the most significant events of his reign, including this one.

Nuala seemed calmer once her brother had agreed to tell her what happened. They all agreed to meet in Nuala's room after dinner so that all details of that time could be talked through. Nuada realized that it opened up questions that could prove relevant in the future.

He collected a few papers together that he found of interest and they finally left Balor's quarters behind.

The siblings still had not set foot in their own rooms and it was decided that they should look there too, to see what needed to be done to get them in order for their return. Neither of the twins could envision using their father's rooms as their own. Not yet at least. The door was closed to the suite of rooms and they moved on to the next.

Nuala's rooms were as she left them. Her bedroom and dressing room containing only large items of furniture and dust, as did her private reception room.

Nuada's rooms were also as he had left them, but they still contained more than his sister's. There were more personal items here, things he had not taken with him as he went into exile. He travelled light from that moment on and could hardly remember what it was like to have so many everyday things around him. No-one had moved anything after he left. Nuala and her father had entered the rooms but left them as they were in the hopes that he would return to them before too long.

He picked things up and put them back down again. To him it felt like he was examining the possessions of someone else, and in a way it was. These were the effects of a much younger man who obviously lived to be a warrior, but there was more. There were pieces of partly-assembled mechanisms, half-finished projects that had been one of the few pass-times he had that he would willingly use to take his mind away from fighting. He was rather adept at creating small trinkets, such as the music box he made for his sister when she was feeling upset at something he could not even remember.

He came across the broken remains of a clay drinking vessel that lay shattered on the floor and he remembered hurling it across the room in fury after he had just returned from his last argument with his father. He looked at the wall and could still see the faint stain on the wall where it had smashed.

He had been incandescent after that last meeting. His father had given the humans one of the crown pieces and declared a truce between the two worlds, giving Nuala one of the pieces and keeping the last for himself. Nuada had felt unbelievably betrayed by it all. He had been forced to stand and watch the proceedings and it had sickened him. The humans were quaking in fear, on their knees and about to beg for their lives, to promise all that the people of their world could have hoped for...and Balor had for all intents and purposes surrendered to them. They had the Golden Army at their disposal and could have demanded anything of the humans to ensure no repeat of the carnage that had befallen both sides up until that moment...

Nuada sighed as he remembered that last day in Bethmoora. So much had happened since then. More death. More destruction. More despair.

How much of it all could have been avoided if they had kept the Golden Army active as a deterrent against all possible hostile uprisings by the humans... But that was all a very long time ago, and nothing could be done to change the past. All that could be done now was to ensure the future of his people would be better than they could have hoped for previously.

He glanced around once more, then left with his sister and friends, old and new, returning to their temporary home to begin discussing what they had found and what needed to be done to make the rooms ready for use once more. They also made their arrangements to meet up after the evening meal...so that Nuada could explain what had happened to him in battle...why the king had thought the prophecy could in fact have been meaningless...and that he had lost his son forever.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

**Lost? Not At All...**

After helping with the more basic chores of getting Bethmoora into shape (MUCH to the Chamberlain's vexation), Nuada and Nuala sat and ate their evening meal together. They talked of this and that, small things that needed sorting out, but nothing extraordinary. It was nice, Nuada decided, to be able to talk to his sister this way.

When they had finished eating, they seperated for a while so that they could wash and change. Nuada had already changed once that day, from his new clothes into something more suitable for what they were doing, old clothing borrowed from one of the other Elves. The look on the Chamberlain's face when he saw him wearing such attire was priceless and Nuada chuckled to himself at the thought.

He slowly re-dressed in the clothes he had worn that morning, thinking of what he was going to have to tell the others...about what had happened to him during the wars, and why a report of his possible death in combat was sent to his father. He did not relish having to talk about that time, but there was no use in trying to pretend it had not happened, to just push it to one side and never think of it again. He could not deny that it had affected him. Indeed it had fuelled his hatred of the humans to an even greater degree. And yet he had never shared it with his sister.

Had he pulled his mind away from her on purpose or had it just been a reaction to what was happening? He wasn't sure himself, but he had purposely ensured sure she never sensed it when he returned and buried it so deep he hadn't even touched on it himself since.

Once dressed, he looked down at the weapons that lay on the bed. He should not need them tonight...yet he still did not feel comfortable without them. He frowned as he thought about it. His father did not need to carry a sword with him at all times as he had his own guards who would fight to the death to protect him. The fact that they were no match for Nuada himself was beside the point. Against anyone else, they would have proven to be unbeatable. He had to be honest with himself. Nowhere was truly safe for him to remain unarmed, not even here. And yet he could not bring himself to pick up one of the blades. It was time he tried to feel like he WAS home. He sighed and headed for the door, feeling strange not having a weapon with him. It had been this way since the day he left Bethmoora and it could well be this way for the rest of his days, but he had to make a visual statement to those around him. If he did not appear to feel safe, neither would they.

Outwardly, he was ready to meet with the others in Nuala's room. Inwardly, he was not so sure. But, the day had finally come for him to face these particular personal demons. His stomach tightened as a flash of memory came to mind and he had to push it away quickly and take a deep breath to ease the tension he felt. Perhaps it would have been better if he had told Nuala about it privately, but the matter did open up questions that were relevant now and also had a bearing on possible future events. As such, no matter how uncomfortable or emotive the subject was, he had to tell the others about it. He knew he could trust them with his life...but this was almost like baring his soul to them. He had succumbed to his feelings more of late than at any time since going into exile and it worried him. Would he be able to keep his head when he really needed to? Things were so different now. HE was different. But how different? That is what worried him most.

Only time would tell, he knew. For now, he had to speak to the others, so, taking another deep breath, he left his room and walked the short distance down the corridor to Nuala's. As he neared the open door he could hear voices inside, and as he entered he could see that everyone was already here, including Ayla and Oacma whom he had had asked to attend. This was something he wanted to do once only.

Everyone fell silent as he walked through the door and all apart from Nuala bowed to him. 'Please...' he said, shaking his head, '...this really is not necessary when we are alone.' He was not used to this level of formality when in the company of those closest to him. It had taken him a long time to convince Wink not to bow and call him 'Sire' all the time when they were together. He knew they all had to behave more formally whenever others were present, but not when they were gathered privately. He gazed round at his friends and could see they were not convinced. 'Really!' he said with a slightly amused smile, 'I insist.' Nuala was smiling too. 'I agree, brother. We are all friends here. There is a time and a place for ceremony, but this is neither.' Nuada nodded and hoped that they would not be as stubborn as Wink had been. He could see by Naeva's expression that she may be the one who would be hardest to convince. They barely knew each other after all. But she knew more about him than almost all of his own people so she should be granted the same privilege.

After a few rather sheepish smiles, everyone found themselves somewhere to sit, Nuada taking a seat beside Nuala where he was able to gaze into the fire that blazed in the hearth. It sometimes helped him to think, the flickering flames somehow bringing memories to the fore more easily.

Nuala was the instigator of the proceedings this time. It was she who felt the most desire to know what had befallen her brother in battle. She still could not believe that he had been able to keep it from her.

'Brother,' she began, 'I read the report that Father left behind.' She looked deeply shocked. 'How is it possible that I did not know any of what happened?' Her expression was a mixture of hurt and disbelief. She looked totally bewildered by the whole thing. 'Surely they thought I would have died too, if you had? Why did no-one come to me about it?'

Nuada could not answer her question as he was not there, but Ecris was able to provide some answers.

'Princess,' he began, 'I do not know just how much you remember of that time, but you did in fact fall ill. You were tending your garden with one of your ladies when you fell to the floor in a dead faint. You were taken back to your room and a healer was called to attend. She could find nothing physically wrong with you, but you did not respond to any of her treatments.'

Nuala frowned. 'I can only vaguely remember being ill,' she replied, feeling more than a little disconcerted. 'How long was I unconscious?'

'It was for a total of three days. You simply lay there, unmoving and silent.' Ecris looked over to her brother. 'It was in the evening of the first day of your 'illness' that we received notification from the field that Nuada was officially missing...and presumed dead.'

Everyone turned to face Nuada at these words. He gazed round at them all and knew now was the time he would have to explain what had happened.

He turned to the fire and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He thought for a moment where he should start then opening his eyes, he turned to his sister and began to relate the whole story.

'There were three of us, Creagh, Luasin and myself. We had been sent out to gather intelligence as to what had befallen a party from the Righdubh clan. They were being moved under escort to what should have been a safe haven, but something had gone badly wrong. They never arrived, and no-one had heard from them or their escort since...'

Nuada and his companions Luasin and Creagh silently walked the forest trail, night having fallen only a short time before. They were still using glamour to ensure they could remain completely unseen by any humans who may be in the area. Working backwards, they had followed the trail the party would have used, hoping they would find out what had happened. It should have taken the escort less than a day to gather all those who needed help from their various hiding places and take them back to the stronghold, but it had taken a day and a half before they finally found any sign of them. For some reason the party had been moving away from the main gathering point. The three warriors had found evidence of a skirmish with the humans so assumed they must have been discovered. Some of the escort had obviously attempted to fend the humans off whilst the others made their escape.

There were a number of small children within the group who must have been too panicked to transport safely by their usual means. This could also have accounted for the fact that they were seen by the humans, as their glamour must have been broken accidentally by an inexperienced user. Travelling on foot until they were safe enough to transport may have seemed like the only option left to them at the time. Unfortunately, it seemed that there were more humans waiting for them and they ran straight into a trap. They didn't stand a chance. It appeared that none survived.

Nuada was horrified by what he saw lying before him on the forest floor, the images of the party of Fey who were slaughtered by the humans burning themselves deep into his memory. No-one should have to witness such a sight as that. He had seen carnage on the battlefield, but this was the first time he had seen children butchered in that way. He only wished he could have said it was likely also to be the last...be he knew he couldn't.

With a heavy heart, Nuada turned to his friends. 'There is nothing we can do for any of them now,' he said sorrowfully. 'We should return to the stronghold and report our findings so that someone can be brought out to give them a proper burial. I will not see them left here like this,' he said, trying to keep his fury at what the humans had done at bay. It would do no good for him to lose it now. There would be time enough to work off his emotions when he next trained with his comrades. His friends agreed, grief etched onto their faces as it was on his own.

They were about to leave when they heard the sound of distant voices. It was the humans! They were on the other side of a high ridge from where Nuada and his comrades stood. He gestured for them to follow him and they made their way to the top so they could see how many there were and gauge how long they may be staying.

Though it was dark they could see well enough that it was not a small raiding party but a larger band, very close to their position and they had set up camp. Quickly estimating the numbers they decided that it would be best to send for reinforcements as they couldn't leave the humans where they were. They were too close to other strategic points. Nuada looked over to one of his friends. 'Luasin,' he said, his voice barely a whisper, 'you must return to the stonghold and return with greater numbers. Creagh and I will keep watch over the camp until you return.'

Luasin nodded and gave Nuada a pat on the shoulder as he quietly stood and moved off into the night. His two friends saw him vanish from sight as he travelled magically to raise the alarm.

Nuada and Creagh were watching a large group of humans who had gathered closely together in the centre of the camp. At first, nothing at all seemed out of the ordinary to them, but they were soon startled to hear someone shouting...in their own tongue. As the humans before them began go move apart they were finally able to catch a glimpse of a pale figure at the centre of the group, the light from a large campfire illuminating the scene. It was a prisoner, another Elf. The humans had managed to capture one of the escorts. He was tied to a post in the centre of the camp.

The warriors glared in anger at the sight of their comrade, Nuada's eyes darkening as he took note of the marks on the Elf's back. He had obviously been whipped and the lash marks were bleeding heavily, rivulets of dark red blood trailing down his pale back. 'We cannot leave him there like that!' Creagh hissed angrily. 'I do not wish to see him like that either...,' said Nuada. He was just as enraged but he was also trying to think clearly. '...but the two of us alone cannot hope to make any kind of an assault. We must wait for the reinforcements to arrive,' he said, trying desperately to keep his own temper under control.

Unfortunately, it was not long before the situation became much worse for the prisoner. The apparent leader of the humans came to 'question' him. He was brutal in his methods and it was obvious that the warrior wouldn't last much longer under that kind of punishment.

'We cannot allow this to continue!' Creagh raged. 'We must break cover and go down there!' He was much less experienced in the field and would not hold off until they had a real chance of helping the captive. Nuada felt sickened by what was unfolding in front of him but he had to remain in control. 'No! Stay put! The others will return shortly...' But Creagh was reckless and would not listen. He got to his feet and made a dash for the camp, heedless of Nuada's orders.

If it were not for his cloak of glamour and the cover of night, he'd have been cut down by one of their bowmen within seconds. As it was he tried to slash his way through the ranks of humans to get to their prisoner, and though they had been taken by surprise, they were quick off the mark and lashed out, managing to wound Creagh badly. The shock of the blow caused his glamour to break as he fell.

By now Nuada had been given little choice but to help him. As Creagh fell, Nuada was within striking distance of the human closest to his friend, who was about to finish him off. Nuada's blade flashed quickly across the man's throat, cutting him down before he could act, and with lightning speed he took out another two who came to aid him. As the other humans drew closer Nuada helped Creagh to his feet, and together they did their best to fight off the rest of the humans as they came for them, but it was little use as there were just too many and the two warriors did not have time to prepare to 'travel' away. They were quickly surrounded and it was only a few moments before they were overpowered by their sheer numbers.

To Nuada, the next few seconds were a blur. All he could do was fend off the blows that were raining down on the two of them. Horrified, he saw one of the humans run Creagh through with his sword, but his friend was able to make one final swipe with his own blade and take the head of the human who had mortally wounded him. As he fell to the ground beside him, Nuada felt immense pain as one of the humans was lucky enough to manage to land a heavy blow. The world spun round fast and everything went black as he collapsed unconscious to the floor.

He did not know how long he had been out, but when he regained consciousness, Nuada found himself now chained to the post in the centre of the camp in place of the Elf they had fought in vain to liberate. He tried to open his eyes but quickly clamped them shut again, gasping as a blinding pain shot through his head and he thought he may pass out again as a wave of nausea flowed over him. But, very slowly this time, he managed to open his eyes and focus properly on his surroundings, though he had to concentrate on breathing slowly and steadily in order to fend off the nausea that he knew must be caused by a severe concussion.

He was more than a little surprised to see that there were a number of humans lying dead in the dirt around him, oozing blood creating dark muddy pools beside them, and he could hear the sounds of other men crying out in pain, obviously wounded and being tended further off. Movement close by caught his attention and he gingerly looked round to see a pair of them coming to drag a body away, but one of them noticed that their prisoner was now awake and ran off in the opposite direction. Nuada was still very disorientated, but managed to pull himself up and stand properly, thankfully taking his bodyweight off his wrists which were hurting from the chains that were cutting into his flesh. Taking a deep breath to clear his head, he closed his eyes for a moment...but they quickly shot open again, wide with horror.

It was just then that the human returned, along with their leader. Nuada began to struggle against the chains in frustration and anger which did nothing except provoke laughter from the human before him. 'I see you have discovered the secret of those chains,' he said with a cruel, lopsided grin. 'You will not be able to simply disappear the way you usually would,' he said smugly. 'The chains were a gift to me from a friend who knew how useful I would find them. Their unique property has indeed proven quite useful recently.' Nuada frowned and looked up, studying the chains that bound him more closely and once he realized what they were his eyes darkened with rage. They were Fey-made! Crafted by his own people for the purpose of preventing their own prisoners from escaping, which explained why the human's previous captive had been unable to get away.

Seeing Nuada's expression, the human became highly amused by his predicament. 'Not long after we captured you we were attacked,' the human continued. 'I have lost a large number of my men tonight...and I am not at all happy,' he said icily. Obviously Luasin and the others had returned and stormed the camp while he was unconscious. In which case...why was he still here? He could not understand... 'I have decided to take some recompense for this loss from your hide, Elf!' the human sneered, pleased to have someone upon whom he could show his displeasure at what had happened. He would take great delight in inflicting a similar punishment on his new prisoner as he had on his last.

'Strip him to the waist and flog him,' said the human coldly. When asked by one of the men how many lashes he should give, he smiled. 'Just keep going...until I tire of watching...' he said waving his hand dismissively. With that, he ordered his chair to be brought out and he sat down, making himself comfortable with a drink and some food as the whipping began.

The first lashes cut sharply into Nuada's flesh, tearing his skin open, his muscles tensing as each one landed, his teeth clenched tightly as he forced himself not to cry out. He could feel the warm blood running down his back and cooling quickly in the open air. As time went on he could not feel the individual wounds any longer, rather it was as if his entire back were one huge open wound, the pain like nothing he had ever experienced before.

Besides learning how to use a weapon, warriors were also taught various kinds of coping strategies in case they were captured. He wasn't sure how long it lasted...and he lost count of the number of lashes, though he did try to count them...concentrating on something helps to take the mind away from the pain...even counting lashes if there is nothing else.

However, the whipping did eventually cease and he was left there for the night, the rest of the men taking turns to enjoy a little pain-giving of their own in whichever way they saw fit, usually consisting of finding some substance they knew would hurt and pouring it over his open wounds in the hopes of eliciting a cry of agony, which Nuada steadfastly refused to give them, though he was careful to keep his head bowed low to ensure his face was shadowed...so they could not see the tears he was trying to hold back behind closed eyelids, his fists clenched so tightly that they too were hurting. He endured this in silence until they finally fell asleep, drunk.

The cold night did not worry him, of course...or the rain. They were actually a blessing. The open welts on his skin burned with pain, and he knew they were probably becoming infected from the filthy whip they had used on him and countless others before, along with whatever else they had thrown into the wounds.

He spent the rest of the night lapsing in and out of consciousness, but in his more lucid moments he had begun to realize one important detail...the human did not seem to be aware of what his more unique scar indicated. He did not realize who exactly who he had captured! He knew that things would have been even worse for him if he had, though that seemed almost impossible at that particular moment in time.

As the camp came to life around him the next morning, Nuada was taken down from the post and dragged before the human once more, still in chains of course, his hands bound tightly behind his back. He was not that stupid, unfortunately. He sat himself down in front of Nuada with his feet resting on a stool, all brash arrogance and swagger. Nuada stared at him, his eyes darkest amber. 'What is your name?' the human asked as he cleaned under his nails with the point of his knife. Nuada just stood there, silent and still. The human looked up at him, frowning. He was not used to his 'guests' being so closed-mouthed after a night of his 'hospitality'. 'Your name, Elf!' he bellowed, his temper beginning to fray already. He obviously had a very short fuse indeed. Still Nuada stood before him, refusing to speak, glaring at his captor with dark eyes.

He knew all too well that if the human realized who he was he would find a way to use the Prince's position as leverage...and he was not about to allow this human to gain anything from his capture. It would be better to die as an un-named prisoner and rob him of any bargaining power he may have had. That was to become Nuada's main focus from that point on and he was purposely 'obstructive' when questioned. An almost imperceptible smile formed on his lips as he watched the human becoming steadily more and more riled at his prisoner's continued silence.

This went on for some time, each question being met with silence, and each lack of a response being punished by a twist of the chains, a blow to the ribs or a swift punch to the stomach, all of which Nuada bore with a steadfast determination never to utter a sound. At one point those holding him were distracted for a moment by sounds from outside and he took the opportunity to pull free of them for a few seconds...long enough to give their leader a hefty kick straight in the face. A vicious smile played on his lips once more as the short burst of adrenaline coursed through his veins. It felt so good to him in that brief moment! A small victory, perhaps, but necessary for his morale. The human sat with his hands over his face, blood pouring from his nose and tears streaming down his face. His nose was obviously badly broken. He knew what would happen next, and steeled himself for the pain to come, which of course it did.

He was soundly punished for his behaviour, his feet being bound with more chains so that they could kick and punch him to the ground. Not that being on the ground stopped them of course. They kicked him over and over again, blow after blow striking him in the ribs, the stomach and the face. He knew that at least two of his ribs were broken. He felt them crack and just breathing had become unbelievably painful, never mind trying to move. But he did finally make a sound, though it was not quite what they humans wanted to hear. 'SALACH BALTAI!' he managed to shout at them. They seemed to know exactly what he had called them and they kicked him even harder, and though he was in agony by now, they were amazed when he began to laugh at his ability to rile them even further. It hurt so much to laugh but he just couldn't help it. He was beyond caring and it was his rage and adrenaline that was keeping him going. Swearing at them was all he could do now. He needed to keep his anger full-on so that he didn't fall into the trap of despair that prisoners develop as their bodies suffer.

When they had tired of this particular beating, they dragged him back to the middle of the camp and chained him up again, leaving him there for the rest of the day and overnight, bleeding, bruised and in agony.

He hadn't been given food or water since his capture, but the rain helped a little. It came down on and off through the night and he was grateful for it. Come morning, he was roused from his half-sleep by a kick to his ankle as they came back and took him down from the post once more. The camp was being dismantled around him. They had realized that another attack was likely if they stayed where they were, so it was time to move on and he was dragged along with them, literally at times. He was determined to make it as awkward as possible for them to have him there with them, hoping that they would find him too much trouble to bother with and that their anger would cause them to make a mistake and allow him to escape. Either that or kill him. Whichever they chose he was ready.

As a warrior he had to think in those terms every single day of his life.

After half-a-day's march from their initial position they made camp again, but this time Nuada was chained up under cover so he didn't have the benefit of rainwater to keep him going. He knew he was dehydrating too quickly, his throat dry and burning after the enforced march, so he did all he could to retain his strength using meditation to slow his metabolism and tapping into the natural energies to sustain him as the Fey could do in times of dire need.

He was roused once again later that day by the sounds of another group of humans arriving...and they brought with them more prisoners, two trolls and three Elves from Borrfrith clan. As they were brought in and chained up they gasped in shock, immediately recognized Nuada. He could see the looks on their faces but he just shook my head, hoping they would not to react to his presence. The problem was that now his scar was beginning to mark him out even more...and he could see one of the new humans take a good look at his face before he left.

When they were finally alone, he spoke with his new companions. 'Please,' he said, speaking quietly so that the humans would not hear, 'do not treat me any differently than you would anyone else. So far they do not realize who I am...and I want it to remain that way.' The new prisoners understood why he wished it, but the dismay at seeing their Prince in such a state was plain to see.

He knew exactly how he must look to them and he made even more of an effort to stand up straight and give the impression that he was not as bad as he was. They whispered amongst themselves for a while and decided that they wished to try to help him to escape immediately. It was difficult to convince them to remain calm, but he knew things would be bad for all of them if they tried anything rash. 'If an opportunity comes for us all to escape, we will take it, but I am not prepared to allow you to put yourselves at risk for me,' he said, as commandingly as possible. 'I am here to fight beside you and it is right that I stay with you until we can all leave together.'

Unfortunately, what he had feared would happen, did. The human who had taken such an interest in him must have known something of their people. He knew what Nuada's scar meant and had mentioned his surprise that Balor's heir was their prisoner and yet was not kept under permanent guard. Their leader was informed of the situation and he was once again dragged before him.

His eyes narrowed and darkened even further as the anger he had felt earlier quickly resurfaced. The human was very pleased with himself and walked back and forth in front of him grinning. 'Despite your earlier silence, I now know EXACTLY who you are...Prince Nuada!' he said taking great delight in informing his prisoner that his refusal to speak had only delayed the inevitable for a short while. 'I will make your father beg for his life and your people shall kneel at my feet!' he exclaimed arrogantly, strutting around as if he was himself a king. Nuada seethed with rage, wishing with all his heart for a blade with which to part his head from his shoulders as he spoke, but as that was not possible, all he could hope for was a chance of escape or that he could goad the human into killing him before the day was out.

Nuada still refused to speak to him...and he still found it annoying. He was led off, wearing a bitter-sweet half-smile, after the human gave orders for him to be taken outside and chained to the newly erected post in the centre of the camp. He would have him whipped once more, for his 'insolence' as he put it. He also had the other prisoners brought out to witness it, hoping it would humiliate their Prince, but seeing the look in their eyes he would have said that all he managed to do was inflame an even greater desire to make him suffer than they had previously felt.

He ordered them to continue the lashes until one of the other prisoners begged for them to stop. 'Do nothing!' Nuada ordered in their own tongue. 'Just ensure that I do not survive to see them use me for their own ends!' he shouted to them. They protested fiercely but he made them swear it. They were well aware of what could happen if he lived and though he could see how much it tore at their feelings of loyalty to do so, they kept their word and would not call out, though they would not watch the punishment either. They just stared at the ground, but through the growing haze caused by the pain, Nuada could hear them repeating old words of power, trying to give him of their own strength. Once the humans realized what was happening they tried to stop them, but despite their punishment one of the Elves refused to be silenced. He was beaten to his knees but would not yield. At the last, as they lifted a sword above him he called to his Prince to take his strength as his own and he released all the energy he held before the blade silenced him. Nuada stared ahead of him, swallowing hard to try to relieve the tightness in his throat and blinking away the mist that had clouded his vision, his teeth clenched tight as he barely managed to hold his rage and sorrow in check. The others were finally led away.

They continued to whip him until he lost consciousness. He did not want to accept it himself, but they had managed to weaken him too far with their abominable lack of hospitality. Being brought to that condition did not sit at all well with him. He was used to being strong and in control, and he had found it almost shameful to have been captured in the first place, never mind to have been beaten so far down that he could do nothing to prevent it.

When he regained consciousness it was dark and he was back with the other prisoners, lying on his stomach on the floor where the humans had unceremoniously dumped him, his hands bound behind his back once more. As he came to, he tried to move to a slightly more comfortable position. He realized his feet were not bound so he pulled one of his knees up a little, trying not to gasp out loud as he shuffled himself inch by inch across the floor towards the wooden post he could see out of the corner of his swollen eye, hoping to be able to edge himself up to a sitting position. As his arms moved he could feel the stickiness of the blood that had trickled down the sides of his ribs as he lay face-down on the ground for hours. The others had been kept just too far away from him to be of any help with what he had asked them to do and so were concentrating all their efforts into trying to escape. The troll had worked hard to weaken the chains that bound him and was almost free. Once he realized that Nuada was awake, he worked even harder until his efforts paid off and he managed finally to break them and set about freeing the rest of them.

Working as quietly as possible they tried to clean him up as best they could for the moment, and when he was aware enough to do so, he tapped into the natural energies once again. Though it took a while, he was able to gain enough strength from it to stand with their aid. He needed to move, to relieve the stiffness of his muscles after being in the same awkward position for so long, his circulation having been almost cut off to his hands which ached as the blood began to reach them once more.

After a while they heard the guards coming to check on them again, so lay back down and made it appear they were all still chained and asleep. But, as soon as their backs were turned as they made to leave they were silently disposed of, finding the chains were useful for purposes other than those they had intended, their breath stilled as they were strangled, the cold metal links digging into their windpipes. Once dead, their weapons were taken, and their prisoners cloaked themselves in glamour.

Nuada had some unfinished business to deal with before they left...so they moved silently around the outskirts of the camp, then made for the leader's quarters, slipping carefully past the guards who were stationed outside, though the troll decided to stay close by so that he could distract them if they tried to intervene.

Once inside the others stayed back out of the way and left Nuada to do what was necessary. He was determined to make the human pay for what he had done to him and his anger fuelled his strength for the moment. The human lay there, snoring like an overfed pig, so he decided to wake him by tipping him from his bed, which he did not seem to appreciate very much as he writhed on the ground spluttering in shock. Nuada watched wearing a rather satisfied smile as the human got to his feet, looking round trying to work out what had just happened to him. Once Nuada dropped his glamour, he stared dumbfounded at the Elf who had so recently been his prisoner, being somewhat...surprised to see him standing there, very much less encumbered by chains.

He hurled all manner of insults at the Prince, but when Nuada held the blade he had liberated from one of the humans to his throat, he fell uncharacteristically silent. The troll quickly and quietly dealt with the guards outside once they reacted to the noise, then waited until they were ready to depart.

'I am going to make you pay for everything you have done to me and my people,' Nuada hissed venomously. 'But I will not simply slaughter an unarmed man as you have done to the Fey you have encountered.' With this, Nuada picked up the human's own blade and threw it to him, which the others did not like. 'I will not stoop to the same level as this human!' he snapped at them, his eyes dark and menacing as he stared at the man before him, and they grudgingly accepted and moved back to allow them room to fight.

With a blade in his hand the human was once again his usual arrogant self, seeing Nuada still bearing the lash-marks and obviously in a weakened state, but the Prince did not care what he thought. He waited for the human to make the first move and when he did he made sure he found him to be an opponent worth remembering ...though Nuada had absolutely no intention of allowing him to live long enough to reminisce.

The fight was a little shorter than he would have liked as he would have preferred the man to feel a more accurate measure of the pain he had inflicted on his prisoners in the past, but as he died Nuada believed he had gained at least a little understanding of what they had gone through. As the human fell to the ground with his own blade protruding from his stomach, Nuada watched him take his last breath, a dark and vicious snarl on his lips. The others could well appreciate their Prince's feelings. It was totally understandable under the circumstances. The human had been a depraved, sadistic braggart and meeting his end at Nuada's hands seemed to them to be more than justified.

After this, they sought out their own weapons as they crept silently through the camp cloaked in glamour, and upon finding them and others made by their own people, as well as the Fey-made chains, they were able to leave.

They returned to the stronghold from where Nuada, Luasin and Creagh had set out. At first they were almost disbelieving of the fact that it was he who stood before them and it was then that he found out that he had been recorded as having died in combat...and why. An urgent message was sent back to Bethmoora to tell his father that he was safe and he was tended by the healers at the stronghold for a few days before he returned home...

As he finished relating his story Nuada looked over and gazed at his sister. Nuala was trembling, her eyes wide with horror at what she was hearing. She reached out her hand and laid it on top of his.

Nuada turned to Ecris now. 'As I understand it, they found Creagh dead where he had fallen and the captive had been killed by the humans as the fight began, but as he was so disfigured by his injuries they were unable to make a positive identification. As Luasin had left before we saw the captive...they assumed the body was mine.'

Ecris's expression was one of utter sorrow as he slowly nodded to confirm the Prince's words.

Nuada could see how upset his friend was. 'No-one could have known I was still alive. Recriminations are unwarranted...as are any misplaced feelings of guilt,' he said, trying to make Ecris feel less forlorn.

He turned and gazed into the fire as he recalled the last of what had happened at the time. He hadn't expected his father to visit him at all, but late in the evening he came to his room. He did not stay long and did not say very much...just that he was relieved that Nuada was safe...and that it should not be long before he was able to rejoin his friends. He had thought he was just happy that he would be leaving again soon...but at least he knew now that if he was happy about it, then it was for the reasons he had since become aware of.

But as something struck him, he turned back to Nuala and frowned. 'The one thing Father did not mention to me on my return was what had happened to you during this time,' he said curiously.

He turned to Ecris now as he may be the only person left who could explain it. The Wisdom-Keeper did know something about it of course. 'Your father thought it best if you were not told of your sister's condition...in case it distracted you while you were away. He did not want you to make a mistake when your life depended on it because you were worried about what may be happening to the Princess.'

The siblings looked at each other and knew that Balor had been right in his thinking. Nuada would most definitely have held back if he thought his sister's safety could be compromised by his actions.

'But what of Nuala?' Nuada asked, frowning slightly. 'Did no-one explain anything to her concerning her 'illness'?' As Nuala could remember nothing herself, it seemed like a question that needed answering.

'When the Princess had awoken and became aware that she had lain on her sickbed for a number of days, we told her only that she had contracted a strange fever but had been tended by the court Mages until they were sure of her full recovery. She did ask if you had also been affected by her affliction...and for similar reasons to those by which you were not told of the Princess's condition, the decision was taken to tell her that you had not and were in good health.'

Although this may all have seemed an odd decision to make in any ordinary circumstance, the lives of the Royal twins was far from ordinary, the link between them and their position as heirs to the throne made every situation much more complicated, causing many possibly far-reaching consequences to have to be considered at every turn. With this in mind, they knew that whatever had been decided all that time ago, it would have been discussed and considered long and hard before any definite action had been taken. It was for everyone's benefit and that was all that mattered in the long run.

It appeared that both of them had learned a lot about that moment in time. For Nuada it had been painful in so very many ways, for Nuala, a time of much confusion.

There was not much else anyone could say, and as it was getting late, after everyone had been made a warming drink, it was decided that sleeping on all that had been said was probably wise. If it had opened up any questions that may need further discussion, there would be time to talk again soon.

As such, once everyone's drink had been finished, the friends said their goodnights and left for their own rooms. All except for Nuada. He stayed behind a little while longer...he knew his sister needed some time alone with him before they parted for the night.

They moved their chairs to sit as close as possible to each other and remained beside the fire for quite a while in silence, both of them deep in thought...until Nuada's reverie was broken by the sensation of a soft hand being placed gently upon his own once more. He looked down at the delicate fingers as they rested atop his, wondering how much Nuala was picking up from this contact. Lifting his gaze to his sister's face, he could see that without a shadow of a doubt she had finally managed to navigate her way past his defences...and had been able to see and feel everything that he had tried to protect her from.

His mask of pretence finally fell and he grasped Nuala's hand in his and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. Nuala pulled him towards her until his head rested on her shoulder, his long hair falling across his face like a delicate curtain, almost as if trying to shield him from the harshness of his own memories. He had been so young when it happened, in human terms only just in his late teens, but he had certainly proved himself to be as strong a man as any of the other warriors he served with and all had felt the ultimate respect for his courage.

They stayed like this for a long time before Nuala finally moved and Nuada lifted his head slowly, having almost fallen asleep. 'Nuada,' said Nuala gently as she stood up, still holding his hand. 'Come with me. It's time you slept properly.' He stood up and made to move toward the door, but when his sister stood where she was he stopped and turned to look at her with a questioning expression. 'No, Nuada, not on your own...not tonight,' she said quietly and moved towards her own bed, leading him by the hand. She pulled the covers back and was surprised when Nuada did not protest, but silently lay down on the bed with her, allowing her to cover them over with the blanket. And as they had when they were young and needed comfort, they fell asleep with their arms around each other, forehead to forehead, sharing their dreams and their love for each other in a way no-one else could possibly understand.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32 - A Stroll Down Memory Lane**

Nuala was first to wake, opening her eyes to see her brother still asleep, his lashes long and dark against his pale skin, his face relaxed and peaceful. It was so nice to see him like this, the sadness, anger and worry all absent for the moment leaving him looking so like the brother she remembered from childhood. She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the forehead as he had done so often to her when she needed comfort or reassurance. This was a rare experience for her, being able to comfort and protect him, even if it was only from sorrow and bad memories.

At the sensation of warm lips alighting gently upon his skin, Nuada began to wake, slowly opening his eyes and seeing Nuala's smiling face before him. He blinked a few times and could not help but smile back at such a lovely sight. 'Good morning, Sister,' he said lazily, reaching round her and pulling her close again. They lay snuggled up for a while, relishing the contact that they had craved for so very, very long. It did not matter to them that they were now grown adults, they belonged together like this. They were like one person growing up and now that they had been 'reborn' in spirit, it seemed right that they should renew their bonds. The memories of Nuada's previous feelings were there but they were fading and being replaced by those of more innocent times between them.

They both knew that the palace would soon be bustling with activity and as such it was time they rose and got ready for whatever the day ahead would bring. They got up together and as Nuada stretched and yawned, Nuala set about making her bed. Nuada pulled her close for a hug and kissed her forehead gently. 'Thank you, Nuala,' he said softly. No more words were needed. She knew just how much it had meant to him to be able to share that tenderness with her again...and while he slept, she became aware of how much his own natural empathic sensitivity was coming back. This could help him to become the leader the people needed and it pleased her immensely. It would also mean they could share their feelings so much more easily by touch than they had before, giving them back at least a small measure of the contact they had lost since returning from the Darkness. After another kiss on the cheek, they made arrangements to meet in Nuada's room in a short while and he left to get himself washed and changed for the day ahead.

Once in his room with the door closed he sat down on the edge of his bed and found himself going back in time in his mind to when he and Nuala were just young children. No worries marred their days which instead were filled with adventure and make-believe games. Yes, even Fey children played games that involved using their imaginations to transport them from their everyday lives. He could remember always being the bravest warrior in the land and Nuala was usually the damsel who had strayed into some terrible peril or other and needed rescuing, though if he did something she did not like it was usually him who needed saving as he ran off in the opposite direction, laughing as he dodged hastily hurled objects that whizzed past his young pointy ears. He smiled to himself as he thought about it. It was not just he who had a temper. It was just that Nuala's would generally come out of the blue, rather like a summer storm.

He sighed heavily as his thoughts came back to the present. All that time wishing desperately to be the bravest, strongest, most skilled warrior who had ever existed...and this is what the fulfilment of his dream had meant. He sat here alone in his own room beside the weapons he had craved owning...and yet he was possibly one of the most forlorn souls who had ever been born into their world. He had been so happy lying in Nuala's arms as he had when he was that young boy. So much had pushed them apart since then. He resolved never to allow that to happen again.

In memory he drifted back to the day he had noticed the shy and furtive looks between Nuala and Oacma. They were obviously very attracted to one another. But instead of the old feelings of jealousy that had previously clouded his every thought of his sister, he found himself hoping that she would, in fact, find happiness with his new friend. He wondered whether this possible relationship would get in the way of he and Nuala's new-found closeness, but realized that far from getting in the way, it may actually bring them closer together. He found Oacma to be such a good man and knew he would be everything Nuala could wish for in a partner.

But what of him? He had never really considered it before...but would he ever find someone he could truly share his life with? Was that something he was fated for? He had never had a 'relationship' as such with any of the women he had bedded over the centuries, though some had been unbelievably close. He thought of Ayla. Their bond was closer than most had been, but he could not see himself settling into a 'real' relationship with her. She had an eye for more than just the Prince of Bethmoora, as well he knew. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of her

naughtiness. He loved her as a true friend with whom he had shared some of his most intimate moments and feelings, but she was not 'the one' he knew. The only other person who really knew so much about him was Sanshara, the Elf who was mentioned by name in the prophecy he had found only the day before.

She had disappeared so very long ago, long before he had ever met Ayla in fact. The day they met had seen one of the worst raids by humans on a Fey community in living memory. It was unprovoked and utterly unnecessary. Sanshara had trained at the healing sanctuary that was attacked and had in fact only recently become a fully-fledged Healer Mage of her order, the Annym Fasidhe'en.

He had arrived at the sanctuary after those who could escape had come to Bethmoora to raise the alarm. Nuada's own band of warriors was sent out along with others to deal with the humans, but when they arrived they had been amazed to see some of them actually retreating. They ran straight into the waiting ranks of Elven warriors and were quickly disposed of...and when the reason for their hasty retreat was revealed, it could not have come as a greater shock to Nuada or the others.

One of the healers had actually used their magical ability to kill. As they moved through the main building they found all the evidence of the human's raid, Fey lying dead in every room and in the corridors. As they neared the end of the main passageway they began to notice a growing smell of burning and a strange smoky haze hung in the air. As they reached the last room, the source of what had now become a stench of burning finally became apparent.

Nuada was first to enter the room, his blade still in his hand, though it was now obvious he would not need it here. Kneeling in the corner of the room with her back to them was an Elf, one of the healers who had tended the sick and injured Fey who were here to be made well. Behind her lay numerous bodies, all of them human, but also ash. It was obvious that these piles of grey powder had once been humans too, the smell of burnt flesh and hair being unmistakable as it hung in the air around them. She didn't move when they entered. Indeed it was almost as if she wasn't even aware of their presence, though being an Elf she must have heard them since the moment of their arrival, the sanctuary being eerily silent apart from the sound of their footsteps echoing through the corridors.

He slid his blade back into its scabbard and called out to her, but still she did not react. Slowly he walked towards her which enabled him to see what lay on the floor before her...the bodies of three Fey children, killed by a human's blade. It was only now that he stood close by her that she finally reacted to his presence. 'They killed the children,' she said, her voice almost inaudible. 'I could not stop them.' He looked around at the carnage in the room, then at the woman before him and his heart sank.

'You did everything you could,' he said, being careful to keep his tone even and calm. 'Come with me now. It is time to leave,' he said gently, leaning down to help her to get slowly to her feet, then turning her round to face him. As he beheld the Elf that stood before him his face must have betrayed the horror he felt at seeing such a sight. She was bleeding heavily from a slash wound that crossed her chest and from various cuts to her arms and hands. Carefully, he took her right hand and looked at the sign of Aiglim which was etched onto the skin of her palm. It should have been a beautiful shade of green, but now it was scorched and blackened... and he knew that this was without doubt the Elf who had killed all these humans.

She had killed every one of the men she encountered that day. As her sorrow and rage had taken her, her eyes had darkened so far they looked almost black as she stared ahead of her, half blinded by the unbridled power that had surged through her. He put his arm around her shoulders, almost holding her up.

This was the first time he had personally witnessed the aftermath of a Mage's emotional breakdown and it practically broke his heart. 'They have all gone. You are safe now,' he said gently after swallowing hard so that he could speak. His tone seemed to bring her round, and she blinked a few times before gazing up at him, though it was clear she could not see him properly and probably did not even realize who he was.

'They killed them all,' she said quietly. 'There iss no-one left.' Tears began to course down her cheeks, streaked red with blood, a result of the damage caused by channelling so much power for so long. 'I was too late,' she said, her voice a rasping whisper. Her legs had buckled beneath her then as she finally succumbed to her body's need to shut down and protect itself from the trauma it had been through. She fell limp, Nuada managing to catch her before she hit the ground.

He had personally carried her to the Bethmooran court Mages to be healed as the other surviving members of her order were still busy trying to help those they had managed to evacuate from the sanctuary. There were so many traumatized Fey to find new accommodation for and tend to, most of whom were transported to other sanctuaries. He found it hard to simply walk away and leave her in the care of the Mages. For some reason, he needed to know she would be alright and he visited her sickroom often through the next few days, sitting beside her bed as the healers tended her. She lapsed in and out of consciousness all the time he was there, and he would take her hand and talk softly to her to calm her when she began to cry out whilst having a nightmare or talking incoherently when she seemed to be almost awake, but not quite. He made frequent visits, but the day came when he did not come to see her again... and it was because he had left Bethmoora to live in exile.

So much had happened during those last few weeks. His shocking revelation to his sister of his true feelings for her, this terrible raid along with so many others and then, just to cap it all off for him, the surrender of the Golden Army and the destruction of the crown. He could not take any more and had left Bethmoora, not knowing the outcome for the Mage he had brought home on that terrible day.

They were, however, fated to meet again whilst on a quest to destroy a hideous and powerful demon that threatened the worlds of Fey and Men alike. After that they had stayed in contact through magical means, meeting frequently either to aid one another in some way or simply because they began to crave each other's company. She had become friends with Wink too through knowing Nuada, and he had also found mutual friends through knowing her. Over time they had become extremely close, but nothing had truly happened between them...though Nuada had begun to wonder if something would. But before he could find out...she vanished.

He tried to find her, searching everywhere he knew she had been, either with or without him, asking anyone he could find if they had seen her, but no-one had. Eventually he had to accept that she must surely be dead. Apart from Nuala, he had never been so close to anyone or allowed them to really 'know' him. Ayla had probably come nearer than most, but despite their physical intimacy, their friendship still did not come close to what he and Sanshara had shared.

He sighed as he thought about what the prophecy had said. Could it really be that he was going to finally discover what had become of her? She could have remained hidden from everyone else, of that there was no doubt...but from him? No. She had given him the only means by which anyone could track her, but even this had been of no help. His eyes narrowed as he thought about it. He had kept it, even though he wasn't in the habit of carrying anything that he felt had no true use. There were precious few material things he had ever felt a sentimental attachment to, but he had to admit that it was for this very reason that he had hung on to this particular object. Though it was not here at Bethmoora with him, he knew exactly where it was. He had hidden it in a place that he had visited with Sanshara, a special place that he would go back and visit alone when he needed to really think and clear his mind. He knew now that he had to go back and retrieve it. Perhaps there was a way that it could help to find her...if this truly was her that was mentioned in the prophecy...

Just then, he heard Nuala's voice outside. She was saying good morning to someone who was passing by. Before she could knock on the door he opened it for her and she entered with a happy smile on her face, so he quickly glanced up the corridor to see Oacma's retreating form. He smiled to himself as he closed the door. 'Please excuse me for a moment, Sister,' he said apologetically, 'I have not even begun to get ready yet. I had...other things on my mind.' Nuala watched as Nuada began to remove his shirt ready to wash, his expression thoughtful.

'What is it brother?' she asked as she sat herself down on his bed. 'Are you still troubled by what you revealed last night?' She was well aware of how much it had hurt to have to remember his treatment at the hands of the humans. Day by day she was gaining more of an insight into how his hatred of humans had become so all-consuming. Though she still considered what he had wanted to do to be far from right, she was beginning to see that it was based on real, first-hand experiences and not just something falsely perceived from a place of distant observation.

'No...not that,' he replied as he poured water into the waiting bowl. 'It is the prophecy...,' he said leaning on the washstand for a moment as he thought, '...the name it contains.' He closed his eyes and sighed. Nuala had wondered about that herself. 'Naeva?' she asked, thinking he was still surprised by her mention. 'No,' he said, opening his eyes and turning to his sister. 'Sanshara,' he said quietly.

Nuala looked at him quizzically. 'You have heard this name before?' she asked, his expression telling her he knew more than he had previously disclosed. 'Not just that. It is possible that I've met her...,' he replied, now turning to the bowl once more, '...if she is indeed the same Sanshara.' He scooped the water up to splash his face a few times, hoping the coolness of it would refresh him and take away the slight disorientation he felt on thinking about the possibility of seeing Sanshara again. He finished washing and taking a towel to dry himself off he turned back to see Nuala gazing at him. 'You did not mention that you knew her,' she said in a questioning tone. 'Who is she, brother?' He sighed sadly. 'I will tell you while we walk to get breakfast,' he replied, trying to think how he would relate to her yet another episode in his past that she had not been there to share with him.

He walked over to fetch some clean clothes and proceeded to change. Nuala could not help but watch him as he stood with his back to her, images of the lash-marks he had received at the hands of the humans still fresh in her mind. Her stomach clenched as she envisaged the bleeding welts, but was thankful that the healers had done so well to leave him with only a few hair-line scars on his back. You had to look incredibly carefully to see them at all, but now she knew they were there, they held her attention fast.

It was only when Nuada slipped on a clean shirt that she was able to look away. Once changed and tidy, they left his room and headed for the communal eating area. As they walked, he began to explain how he had first met Sanshara and how they had been fated to meet again a long time later. She found it all very interesting, seeing more than a little significance in the way they seemed to be continually drawn back together.

He then told her of the various times they had met again, through their own will to do so...but also of how she had vanished. Nuada sighed heavily as he recounted the last attempt he had made to find her. 'In that case, I truly hope for both your sakes that the Sanshara of the prophecy and your friend are one and the same person,' said Nuala with a kind smile. 'It sounds as though she would be more than capable of helping you in whatever way you needed of her.' On this count, Nuada had to agree. She was a capable warrior and her abilities as a Mage were astounding. She was a true force to be reckoned with.

But for now, all he could do was hold on to the spark of hope which had been kindled by the prophecy. If only the same could be said of Mr Wink, he thought to himself sadly. He missed his friend terribly...just as he had always missed Sanshara.

The siblings arrived at the eating area just after Sciana and Ayla, who had also been talking together on their way there. Ayla had been telling her new friend of her life as a Selkie matriarch, something Sciana had known little about before, though they were mindful to keep their voices low. The only thing which may have drawn attention to them was the odd giggle brought on by Ayla's tales of past romantic conquests...though she would never dream of mentioning just how 'close' she and the Prince had actually been. She did rather enjoy the company of a man and Nuada knew this very well and he knew by the look on her face as she was chatting to Sciana just what kind of subject she must have been talking of. He couldn't help but smile to himself at her and wondered if anyone in the palace had caught her eye yet. She had, after all, had ample opportunity to peruse the entire male population of Bethmoora as it stood at present.

As he mused upon his friend's appetite for male company, Ecris and Naeva entered the room together. It appeared that Ecris was trying to explain the finer details of some new skill he was teaching his new apprentice Mage...and she was obviously drinking in the information as if it were life-giving nectar. Her eyes positively sparkled with the excitement of learning the subtle nuances of the magical arts from her dearest friend and mentor. Nuada sighed and shook his head as he watched them, still half-disbelieving of the fact that he now considered a human to be an ally... and a close one at that. And this just days after he had awoken the Golden Army in a bid to obliterate her entire race and wipe it from the face of the Earth.

Nuala turned to see her brother contemplatively watching their friend's interaction. She knew better than most just how much had happened to her brother over the past few days, and just how much it had changed him in such a short time. In her heart of hearts, she hoped that he would find a balance within himself between all that he had been and all that he was becoming as time went on. He may have taken what she considered to be a few wrong turns in the road during his lifetime, but essentially he was a good man. Some may actually consider him arrogant at times, but she could see that it was less arrogance and more simply that he was proud and strong, just as he had been brought up to be as the heir to the throne...but the sensitivity that she knew was within him was now showing itself so much more clearly than it had and this could prove to make him a leader worthy of legendary recognition to future generations of the Fey. All he needed was time...

Everyone now sat down and ate their meal together, chatting quite happily between themselves about their hopes for the future of a repopulated palace of Bethmoora and what the culmination of that would mean, especially to the Royal twins. At some point, Nuada was meant to be crowned as King. It was not due merely to his gender that he was Balor's rightful heir, but because he was the first of the twins to be born. If Nuala had been delivered first, then their world would be considering how to welcome a new Queen to the throne. But as it was, even under such strange circumstances, Nuada was still legally to be the next ruler of the Children Of The Earth. But what no-one else who sat there that day knew...was that Nuada was not sure he actually wanted it...

He was just contemplating this when Oacma came rushing in and ran straight to Nuada's side. 'Sire!' he said leaning down to speak, his voice subdued but his tone urgent, 'the lookout has spotted something that I think you may wish to see for yourself.' Nuada looked up at his friend and seeing his expression he did not think it wise to wait for further explanation, so he got to his feet and made his apologies to his friends. 'It may also be advisable to bring our guest Lady Ayla with us too, Sire,' Oacma added, 'as she may find it interesting.' He had to be quite cryptic as no-one but their very close circle knew just exactly who Ayla actually was, and he could not make it obvious that it was vital for her to attend at that particular moment. Ayla looked up from her breakfast at hearing her name mentioned. She took note of Oacma's expression and the fact that Nuada was now on his feet. 'Would you care to accompany me, Lady Ayla?' he asked her pleasantly, trying to give any onlookers the impression that all was well. She gave Sciana a small smile and got to her feet too. 'I would be honoured, Sire,' she said with a demure nodding bow. Nuada nodded and walked round to her, offering her his arm to take, which she did with a small curtsey. With Oacma leading the way, they left at an unhurried pace, keeping up the pretence of them going on a walk together to see something unimportant to the rest of Bethmoora's inhabitants. However, as soon as they were out of sight and earshot of everyone Oacma stopped and turned to speak more candidly. 'Sire, one of Lady Ayla's kin has come ashore and needs to speak to you both urgently. The Arachmor has been sighted again...very close to Bethmoora.'

Nuada's eyes narrowed at this turn of events. He had expected this to happen at some point, but Ayla's covert scanning of Bethmoora's new inhabitants had not turned up another shapeshifter. Which meant that if the Arachmor was waiting to contact someone at the palace, they must already be a fixture at Court. Either that or someone was hiding out nearby. 'Very well,' he said, 'we had better meet this messenger and see if we can begin to unravel this loose thread and find what lies at the end of it.' But first they made a fast detour back to his room. Nuada was taking no chances. Once inside the others waited while he donned his armour pieces. That done he picked up his sword and spear, sliding each into its own scabbard, Oacma already being armed with his own blade. Now armed, Nuada felt much more like his old self in that he truly did not feel right walking around without his weapons. Oacma and Ayla could see the slight increase in his aura of confidence and they looked at each other both wearing a small smile. This was their leader as they knew and loved him.

However, they did not have time to dwell on this fact as they all left the room together and hurried on, through of one the smaller portals and out onto a narrow coastal trail which led down to the beach.

As they neared the shingle at the foot of the cliffs the lookout that Oacma had set there came out from his hiding place and directed them to where the Selkie was waiting for them. In his human form he was about a foot shorter than Nuada and Oacma, but was just as slender and muscular. A human female would have considered him to be strikingly handsome, with his long, dark hair and dark brown eyes. However, a human female would also have been shocked at the sight of him standing there naked holding his sealskin in his hand, but Ayla of course did not even notice, it being totally natural to them to be this way. There is no necessity to own clothing if you spend ninety percent of your life below the waves.

He bowed low to Nuada and to his clan leader and passed on his message. 'I followed the Arachmor as it came close by the cliffs here at high tide. It appeared to be looking for something or someone that may be waiting up there on the rocks...' he said, pointing off a little way to the north-west around a small headland. 'I couldn't see who or what may have been there from my vantage point, but the Arachmor made a sudden dive beneath the water as if to retrieve something that had been dropped down to him.'

Everyone's gaze swept off in the direction that the Selkie had pointed. Though there was nothing there to see now, the fact that the drake had come so close was enough to make them all stare out at the dark grey waters which seemed to have become suddenly a little menacing.

After a few moments thinking it over, Nuada decided that it would be advisable to set up a secondary watch in the vicinity of the cliffs where the Arachmor had been sighted. Perhaps they could finally find out who it was waiting to contact. Ayla and Nuada made arrangements for their own people to be stationed at various points along that section of coastline in order to follow it in from whichever direction it came.

This done, the Selkie returned to his watery home and the rest to the relative safety of Bethmoora. Nuada felt a real need to train, so he and Oacma set off for the training hall, Ayla heading off to see what she could do to help Sciana and Nuala.

As they walked, the two Elves talked of their hopes concerning setting up a new training regime for any prospective Fey warriors. It didn't matter to Nuada whether they were Elves, trolls or of another of the Fey races. If they wanted to learn some form of fighting technique that suited them, then he wanted them to have the opportunity to do just that.

But the first thing they needed to do was make sure they were themselves prepared enough to lead the first sessions. It would take time to train someone up enough for them to take sessions instead. The best they could hope for at that moment was that someone would come forward who already possessed skills they could pass on, once they had regained their own speed and stamina. Nuada sighed to himself. Why does everything have to take so much time...when they had so little of it and Bres had already had more of it than enough in which train many, many warriors of his own.

Once in the hall, they prepared themselves for their own session, and began to train together. As the time ran on, it became obvious that Oacma must have been doing some lone training of his own, as his speed had definitely improved and it was taking far longer for him to tire. All he really needed to do was to help him with some minor tweaking of his technique, and he would become a very accomplished warrior indeed. And true to his word, he handed Oacma a second sword and began to train him in the use of two blades. His eyes shone as he watched and listened to his Prince, taking everything in, then showing his ability to learn fast as he put the techniques into practice in his first sparring session with two swords. Nuada was again impressed by his friend's natural prowess as a warrior and was more than a little heartened by the encouraging thought that if others survived that had begun their training at approximately the same time as Oacma, then maybe they too would be quick to regain their previous skills.

After a long session they stood and grinned at each other, the sweat glistening on their bodies in the torchlight, both of them having to catch their breath but extremely happy having enjoyed the opportunity to be here and train once more. After grabbing a towel each and drink of water, they left the training hall together as they had before, heading for their usual shower area, but they were apologetically headed off by a cave troll before they could get that far. With a deep bow to the Prince, the troll explained that the spring that fed that particular waterfall was being partially re-diverted, along with many others, back to the old channels so that the flow of cold water could be restored once more in Bethmoora. Nuada was very happy at this news, knowing that it would make daily life an awful lot easier on everyone. And once the troll informed him that as they spoke another gang of trolls was preparing for the slightly more hazardous job of reinstating the flow of water from the channels deep underground where the water was heated by the Earth's own internal furnace, he was feeling almost elated.

This did of course mean that it would only be a very short time before he and his sister could move back into their own quarters once more and those of the higher court officials would also be available for habitation. This would free up a lot of space for the increase in numbers of Fey who were returning to the palace day-by-day. It looked as if things were finally taking a positive turn for them all at last. As the troll departed, smiling broadly after being so heartily thanked by the Prince, Nuada and Oacma made their way back to their own rooms again to wash and change. They were more than happy to forgo a proper shower now whilst thinking of the wonderful sensation of all the hot showers and baths that were to come.

The news of the water situation was gladly received by everyone in the palace, and it seemed to have spurred each person to work even harder at their own chores, and Fey of every shape and size were doing everything they could to help each other in their varying tasks.

After dressing and arming himself once more, Nuada made his way to the main entrance, wanting to see for himself just how many people were arriving and what exactly they were bringing with them. People passed him in droves, groups of them bowing low to him, then standing staring, rather in awe of the figure of their new leader as he strode past them, tall and regal. Most of them were used to seeing the Princess wandering through the markets and communities as she tried to help them in whatever small way she could, but it had been millennia since most of them had set eyes on her brother...and recent events with their father had not exactly been the introduction that either party would have liked.

Some would feel positively hostile towards him he knew, Balor having been the only figurehead the people had to focus on for such a long time, and the 'peace' he had enforced had become the only way of life they could properly remember. But out-and-out war with the humans was not something Nuada could envisage any longer. The only war he could see them having to face would be brought on from within their own realm, though none of them knew anything of that just yet. He knew it would only be a matter of time before his uncle made a move...and their entire world could be put in peril of its ultimate destruction.

Trying to put this thought to one side for the moment, Nuada watched as small groups of Fey materialized before the stone giant, each party being greeted by others who had already settled inside. They were bringing with them all manner of material objects that were either necessary for habitation, or otherwise were simply personal effects. A small child dropped her doll as she was led past, hand-in-hand with her mother, and Nuada bent down and picked it up, holding it out for her to take. As her mother bowed low to the Prince, the child gazed up into his golden eyes and he was rewarded with a wide and very cute smile as her little fingers grasped her favourite toy. 'Thank you!' she said, her emerald green eyes glittering like gems. 'You are very welcome, little one,' he replied, smiling back at her. As she was led away by her very surprised mother, he watched them, deep in thought. It was for her and all the younger Fey that he had to ensure their world would be safe, for their future...and hopefully for that of their children too.

The idea that they could all be destroyed by war, or the humans continued encroachment, or that they would simply fade away through the burden of too much sorrow was something that played on his mind most when he had quiet moments to sit and think. As he thought of his uncle's complete lack of loyalty to these people he could feel his anger rising once more. Nuada was prepared to die fighting if necessary to prevent such a vile creature from destroying their world. Feeling his rage building he thought it best to take himself away from the hubub for a while. He knew his temper often got the better of him when he began to brood over things and he didn't want an innocent person inadvertently getting in the firing line.

He strode out past the rest of the new arrivals and walked on up the hillside so that he could look out over the coastline. The sea breeze caught his long hair and sent it swirling in pale wisps that played around his shoulders, and he was hopeful that the fresh air would help him to think. He slowly scanned the horizon in a full 360 degree circle, the grey sea quite choppy at that moment, the dark cliffs dotted here and there by tufts of hardy sea grasses where he knew the white sea campion would flower during the late spring and summer, and where pairs of Storm Petrels would nest in crevices in the rock. Further round he scanned the grassy inland slopes through which large boulders of dark grey-black rock protruded, some of them looking as if they had been hurled by the giant at Bethmoora's entrance as it did its duty in guarding the palace from intruders.

It all looked so calm and peaceful. If only it could always remain that way, he thought to himself. Sighing, he began to make his way slowly along the grassy slopes, following the cliffs round for some time as he became lost in thought.

From the corner of his eye he saw a brief glimpse of movement. Looking round quickly, he was surprised to see Adien flitting out from behind a large rock. She flew over and hovered in front of him looking rather shy. 'I am sorry if I disturbed you, Sire,' she said apologetically, bowing to him. 'I didn't mean to intrude upon your walk.' She looked very sheepish. 'I wished to see what had become of this land during my slumbers.'

'Adien,' he said with a little nod. 'You do not intrude.' He sighed thoughtfully. 'In fact,' he said smiling kindly, 'I think perhaps I would be glad of your company.' She smiled widely at this. 'I would be honoured!' she exclaimed happily. Nuada grinned at his little friend's enthusiasm. 'Would you care to rest your wings whilst I walk?' he said, indicating that he would be happy for her to alight upon his shoulder. She looked rather taken aback by such an offer coming from him. 'Thank you, Sire!' she replied, blushing slightly as she flew over and sat herself on his right shoulder after he pushed his hair back behind his ear for her. She did not know it but he was used to having one of his more diminutive friends along for the ride, having helped more than a few clans of tiny fairies to find safer lodgings whilst on his travels. They were often made homeless by humans cutting down the trees they frequented, or blasting away the communal homes which they had made in tiny caves deep in rock crevices.

Nuada walked on for quite some time, chatting to his little friend, telling her of things she had still not yet learned of the world as it was now, so very much changed from the last time she flew free in the open air like this. 'The air tastes...strange,' she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Nuada sighed sadly. 'It is the filth the humans have poured out over the last few centuries,' he said gloomily. 'There is nowhere on the Earth that you can truly escape it. Even the snow that falls in the farthest reaches of the north and south is polluted by it.' He stood and looked out across the grey waters of the North Channel of the Irish Sea. 'The oceans and seas have suffered the same fate,' he sighed. 'It's a wonder the Selkie peoples and the other water-fey have survived so long having to exist in such conditions.' He frowned darkly as he thought about Ayla and her people living with the constant threat of having something toxic dropped into their midst or perhaps becoming caught in some unseen net discarded by a fisherman when it became caught on something...perhaps even some rotting hull or other of their own that had sunk in times past.

Adien could understand the Prince's sadness and anger at the state of the world. She had not had the 'benefit' of the centuries other Fey had had to get used to all these changes. To her it was as if she had awoken in another world altogether, one almost nightmarish in comparison to the one upon which she had closed her eyes to sleep her long sleep. She could sense the deep sorrow that weighed him down and wanted to make him feel better, but just did not know how. All she could do was snuggle up into his neck and sigh along with him. He closed his eyes and a sad smile formed on his lips as he sensed her own sadness and wish to help him. They stayed like this for a while, each trying to comfort the other, both silent and still and thinking on the world they had both loved and lost.

A sudden and particularly fierce gust of wind threatened to blow Adien clean off his shoulder, and she squealed, grabbing a wisp of his hair as it flew past, her feet flying up and nearly poking him in the ear. He reached up and caught her before she fell, her wings being out of action seeing as they almost entangled in his hair. She sat looking most undignified on his hand, her own hair in disarray and a shocked expression on her face. He just could not help it. He tried to hold it in, but the look on her face and the fact that he had almost had her as a resident guest in his ear was simply too amusing and try as he might, he simply had to laugh. First of all she tried to look indignant, her hands on her hips and a very cross frown furrowing her tiny forehead, but before long she succumbed to the same amusement and they were laughing heartily together. He hadn't laughed like that in a very, very long time, and by the Gods, it felt so GOOD! He had to wipe away tears as they finally composed themselves once more.

They had been gone for quite some time, and as such they decided it was probably best that they returned as people would be getting worried. With Adien sitting on his shoulder once more, though now clinging on to the edge of his armour, Nuada began to walk back towards Bethmoora, both of them feeling that much better for their time spent together, still chatting away happily between themselves as they finally entering the main portal.

Before long Nuada had reached the communal chamber that led to the individual living quarters, and with a sigh, Adien's wings fluttered and she took off. He smiled rather sadly at his new friend as she hovered before him once more. The sight of the Prince giving one of their number a 'lift' had caused a few heads to turn and many pairs of eyes stared at him in surprise and wonder at his relaxed manner, but he wasn't even aware of the way they looked at him. He was just happy that he had been able to spend even this short time just 'being' for once, instead of worrying about the shadows that loomed over him on every side.

'Thank you, little one,' he said gently, giving her a small bow, much to the amazement of the onlookers. 'You have given me a gift more precious than any I could have hoped to receive today,' he said, utterly sincerely. 'If ever you feel the need to talk to someone, I would be honoured if you would come to me. If I can help you, I shall do it gladly. I am in your debt...Lady Adien,' he said, bestowing her with a title of honour in front of everyone, bowing deeply to her. She wavered slightly in the air as she almost forgot to flutter her wings in her surprise. 'Thank you, Sire!' she replied, dipping in a delicate curtsey before him, totally overwhelmed by what had just happened. Forgetting protocol altogether, she zipped across to him and planted a (for her) huge kiss on his cheek and whizzed off upwards in the direction of her own quarters, leaving him chuckling to himself with a smile on his face.

He realized how everything had suddenly gone completely silent and he looked around to see everyone looking at him. He found their expressions rather amusing and so decided to give them one last show. 'I trust everyone is happy with what just happened?' he asked, raising his eyebrows and blinking a couple of times. Lots of nodding and murmured 'Yes Sire!'s ensued, along with smiles, bows and cursteys galore. 'Very well, then,' he said. 'In that case, I shall leave you to whatever you were doing,' he said inclining his head to them graciously, then he turned on his heel and headed towards his own quarters trying to keep from grinning at their comical expressions.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

**The Children of Aiglim**

The days seemed to be passing by quickly now that the number of inhabitants had increased so much. Many areas of Bethmoora were positively heaving with people. Two weeks had passed without incident since the second sighting of the Arachmor, and though everyone was still on high alert, Nuada was beginning to relax just a little, finding time to run a few errands of his own, some being more private than other, in between making decisions large and small concerning the running of the palace...and the running of their entire world.

The water supply was now reinstated and as such it was almost time that he and his sister moved back into their own suites of rooms once more. Ecris, Naeva, and Sciana were to be given larger rooms in the quarters reserved for the higher ranking officials at Court (along with the Chamberlain and his cohorts, much to his obvious relief). This left rooms free in the rest of the palace for newcomers to make themselves at home too.

But it was obvious that there were not enough actual living areas for everyone who hoped to move there. As such, alterations were being made. Nuada had realized a long time ago that they could create actual communities inside this ancient stronghold, where the meagre remnants of some entire clans could probably come to live under one roof once a concerted effort to reunite them all was made. A proclamation would have to be declared in this regard sooner or later, calling for the first official census in millennia to be made. If there were any missing clan members out there, the possibility of their being reunited with their families once again would be of great benefit to his people. Nuada knew something of this himself of course. Being reunited with his sister and his clan meant more to him than he could express in mere words. He was finally beginning to feel like he belonged, a feeling he knew many out there, lost in the cold and confusing world of the humans would be yearning for with all their hearts.

Nuada was standing in the Golden Army chamber now, gazing over the immense space with various Goblins, Trolls and Elves at his side. They were there at Nuada's request to ensure everyone could see that he was being fair in his dealings with them all as far as the allocation of space within the palace was concerned.

'I have been considering what use could be made of this chamber,' he was saying as the others gazed round at the immense cavern. 'Once the Golden Army has been removed, it no longer has a use as it stands...' He looked round at all those gathered. '...but I would like it to become a focus for all of our people and as such I have made a decision in that respect, which is why I called you all here.' They looked at one another but said nothing, wondering what on Earth their Prince could have decided to do.

One of the golden soldiers had already been moved into the grand Throne Room in Bethmoora as Nuada had wished. The rest were slowly but surely being dismantled, huge piles of golden components being created, ready to be transported to the various Goblin forges around the world to be melted down into ingots. The dark magic that had animated them was dissipating faster than anyone could have predicted. It had been thought that it would linger for a far greater length of time, but each day the atmosphere in this chamber was becoming noticeably 'lighter'. In fact it was becoming lighter physically too. Once the words were said that would bring life to the glamour that reflected the sunlight or moonlight from outside, it was plain to see that it was becoming more and more effective in its job.

Nuada continued his explanation, watching for the reaction on the face of each person there as he spoke, telling them of his plan to turn the chamber into a communal meeting area that could be used by all the various Fey races. This chamber was obviously ideal for the purpose, already having sections which were separated by walkways, each section being tiered and being in essence a ready-made amphitheatre. Because there were six of these areas, it would be an ideal space for several open meetings to take place at once, and with a little adaptation, the central area would become a dais from which anyone relevant, be it Nuada, Nuala or any of the other members of the Court and Council, could oversee the proceedings if necessary, or await petitions if they were to be made. This idea seemed to make a lot of sense to everyone concerned and was greeted with smiles on every face.

The notion of using another chamber, one having to be 'booked' by one particular race or clan at a time was not a good one. Everyone knew that noses would be put out of joint if two parties wished to used the space at the same time and arguments would ensue. No-one wanted that (even the naturally argumentative Goblins). The likelihood that all the areas would be in use at one time (apart from when this was pre-organized) was low. As such, each party was most happy with Nuada's decision.

As those who had attended the meeting left the chamber after the customary bows and nods, they were all chattering excitedly with one another, delighted with the Prince's obvious astuteness in assessing the situation so well. They were all very happy and very impressed.

Nuada watched as another large golden cog was lifted by a particularly large Troll and added to one of the numerous piles which were accumulating in the spaces between the golden soldiers that now stood along one of the walkways between the bays containing the rest of their number. He thought about the use that could be made of the gold once it was melted down, still trying to get used to the idea of trading with the humans instead of trying to kill them. It was a huge change of mindset for him to assimilate at such short notice, as everyone knew, but the Court had been doing this for a very long time indeed. He knew it was necessary for the survival of his people, but it was still a most unpallatable thing for him to take, and he frowned deeply as he thought of the human's greed when it came to things such as this bright metal. Sighing heavily, he turned and left the Goblins and Trolls to their work, heading for Bethmoora's main portal. He had business elsewhere.

As had been arranged earlier, Oacma met him at the entrance. As the palace and their world was becoming steadily more organized, many of the old protocols were being brought back into play. The initial emergency caused by the change of leadership was basically at an end, and through Nuala's formal acceptance of her brother's position, the Chamberlain and other officials were forced to accept the power shift. But this meant that Nuada himself was forced to accept more of the constraints that were placed on those in his position. As such, Oacma was now needed to accompany him whenever he left Bethmoora. The reason the Chamberlain and his officials gave for insisting on this was 'for protection'.

'For whose protection?' Oacma wondered aloud as they chatted, exiting the palace through the giant's portal. 'You are the best warrior our people have ever known and yet they insist you have me with you 'for protection'. He shook his head in bewilderment. The Prince smiled at his friend's comment. 'You are too hard on yourself, my friend,' he said amiably, patting Oacma on the shoulder as they walked. 'Remember, before I had you at my side, I had Mr Wink. Yes, I can take care of myself in most situations, but if one arises in which I'm in need of help, I shall be glad to have you here beside me.' Oacma looked sideways at him, wearing an expression that proved he was not convinced. Nuada smiled at his friend. 'Besides, I think the only necks they are interested in protecting are their own,' he said with a slightly amused sigh. 'And can you imagine the furore in Council if I were to leave without the customary accompaniment of a body guard? You are surely protecting me from all that clerical nonsense, something for which I am eternally indebted to you!' He grinned and gave his friend an exageratedly sweeping bow in thanks and they both laughed at the thought of the Chamberlain and his cohorts expressions the last time Nuada had raised his voice at them when he had had enough of their simpering and whining.

They reached the top of the hill and looked out over the coastline. The season was well and truly turning now, and a chilly autumn wind blew in off the sea. 'Have you been to Oard's forge before?' Nuada asked. He had received a message that morning that the sword he had commissioned was ready to be viewed and had not had time to find out if his friend had ever made the acquaintance of the Goblin smith. Though renowned for his workmanship, he couldn't be sure that Balor or anyone else at Court had ever made use of his services in the past. 'No, Sire, I haven't,' Oacma replied sadly, 'though I have, of course, heard of him. His reputation as a Master Smith is widespread.' 'In that case, I shall guide on this journey,' said Nuada, holding his arm out to his friend. With a nod and a smile, Oacma took hold of Nuada's wrist and they began their journey to Oard's forge.

They materialized outside a large timber-framed building that was set into the side of a long ridge of rock near the bottom of a small mountain, somewhere very much colder than the land they had just left. It was freezing here with snow lying a few inches thick on the ground and after casting a glance upwards, Oacma could tell that a new fall of snow was likely within the hour. Their presence had not gone unnoticed, and a small Skratta appeared at the door to the smithy, bowing low on seeing Nuada standing there and welcoming them inside. The glow from the forge lit up the doorway, and as they entered it was like walking straight into a wall of heat. As the Skratta walked off to fetch Oard, they looked with interest at a rack in which some finished weaponry rested. There were some wonderful swords and daggers just waiting for their new owners to come and collect them. Some of them were commisions, but others were of the Goblin smith's own design. He had obviously been busy in the last few weeks.

Ever since Nuada had killed his father (and made his speech about wishing to wage war), orders for weaponry had come in thick and fast. Oard hadn't been so busy in centuries. But he certainly wasn't complaining. He had been sick of making or mending nothing but everyday items such as pokers, chains and cooking implements for so long. It was rare that anyone came here asking him to create something of true beauty. But now...he was back in his element...and his element was fire! The forge glowed brightly as the huge bellows puffed loudly into the coals to bring them to white-hot life once more.

On the other side of the building stood Oard, leaning over a beautifully crafted sword which lay upon a thick wooden board bearing the black, shiny marks that spoke loudly of its owners trade. He was running his finger slowly along the blade and seemed to be whispering something, almost as if he were talking to it, which in a way he was. The Skratta waited quietly to one side, knowing better than to disturb the Smith as he wove a spell into the metal, finally instilling the glyphs that decorated it with the power to do what they were meant to.

Nuada and Oacma also waited patiently for Oard to finish his work. They had profound respect for his craft, knowing that it had taken many hundreds of years of being apprenticed to one of his kin, most probably his own father, to learn the secrets of creating such wondrous and magically imbued weaponry. Many of these secrets remained inside one family, never being disclosed to anyone outside of the clan, which of course meant that sadly, as many clans were wiped out during the wars and the subsequent years of 'peace', a great many such secrets had been lost and would most likely never be re-discovered.

After a while, Oard slowly stood up straight and took a deep breath, sighing and smiling with satisfaction at the completion of his work. It was always a good feeling when the last incantation had been uttered and the weapon lay before him, glinting in the light from the forge, ready for its new owner to wield. The Skratta finally came forward to inform him of the Prince's arrival and he turned to greet him wearing a huge smile.

Stepping forward, he bowed low to his Prince. 'Sire!' he said, happy to see his new leader once more. 'Oard, my old friend!' said Nuada, reaching his hand out for the Goblin to take. They greeted each other warmly, both happy to be meeting here again. It had been a very long time indeed since the Prince had visited him at the heart of his world. After Nuada had introduced him to Oacma, they all talked for a while about the apparent upturn in business. 'No-one seems prepared to wait for a direct notification of the right to bear arms once more,' Oard was saying, 'but since you declared your intention to go to war I have been approached by more than just a few persons wishing to be armed and ready for you to command.'

Nuada was more than a little surprised. He had not been oblivious to the look of fear that many of his people had worn when the news of what had happened between himself and his father had spread. It had swept across their world like a wildfire and had caused varying reactions in the population. Nuada wondered if any of those who had commissioned these new weapons actually knew anything of how to wield them. If they did, he wanted to meet them...and urgently.

'My friend, I need to ask another favour of you,' he said, knowing that Oard was best placed to help him in this particular endeavour. 'Other Smiths must surely have been commissioned in the same way that you have,' he said, his eyes brightening slightly as he thought. 'As such, I would be more than happy for these people to come to me at Bethmoora. We have need of those who are capable of using a blade, whether well...or not so well. Training will be given to any and all who wish to accept it,' he said, his eyes shining bright golden as his spirits began to rise a little. The thought that he was getting closer by degrees to his goal of raising at least a small fighting force that could protect Bethmoora with him was highly encouraging. And if this hypothetical first wave of applicants proved to be successful, then maybe it would bring more and more forward as time went on...perhaps even resulting in the formation of a number of warbands...

'Sire, I shall send word out to my brother Smiths immediately,' said Oard with a gleeful smile. 'I'm sure you'll find yourself inundated with those wishing to take up arms in your name...' He knew he wouldn't offend his friend by saying what was truly on his mind, '..in fact I am sure of it.' he said knowingly. 'I have heard the rumblings of dissatisfaction ever since your father made the truce with the humans,' he said seriously. 'Though many of those who first said the words have since perished, I know there are yet others out there who would be more than willing to fight beside you...'

Nuada sighed heavily as he thought of the dissapointment it would cause those who wished for a chance to wreak revenge upon the humans once they knew there was no longer any hope for them to fight against their long-standing enemy, let alone to win such a fight. With a heavy heart, once the Skratta left the smithy on another errand, he decided to bring Oard into his most trusted circle with information that no-one else outside Bethmoora knew at that point. He had been to the Golden Army chamber in person so he knew there simply was no way they could take on the humans. But he did not know about Nuada's uncle...

After hearing of Bres's openly stated intentions, Oard was beside himself with his own rage. He would willingly die for his friend and leader without a second thought and to know that this upstart was still out there, alive, well and plotting the destruction of his world made him thirst for vengeance. He was used to his friend's 'orders' where informality was concerned and since no-one else could overhear, he spoke openly. 'Nuada, my friend,' he began, 'you are right of course. Many of these people will be angry that they cannot make the humans pay for what they have done...but I am of the firm opininon that once Bres's existence becomes common knowledge, along with what his intentions are, that loyalty to the Royal bloodline of Bethmoora will bring them to your side in this cause. And if any would prefer to throw in their lot with this treacherous leech...then may the Gods have mercy upon them, as I for one SURELY will NOT!' he finished, his tone vehement and his expression one of fearless determination.

Nuada was deeply touched by his friend's show of loyalty and courage. 'Thank you, my friend,' he said simply, and he patted Oard's shoulder warmly. Oacma smiled as he watched the two of them, his respect for Nuada growing even more. To have instilled this level of loyalty and love in his old friend, he must always have been the way he was now. This was not just a result of what had happened in the Golden Army chamber. He must always have openly proven his deep-rooted strength, courage and love of his people to have brought Nuada such respect and admiration along the way.

It was time to move on to the real reason for their being here. Oard ushered Nuada over to the sword which lay there, silently waiting for the hand of its owner to claim it and, in essence, to bring it to life. Such was the way with magical weapons. Nuada's eyes sparkled, partly with joy at seeing it properly for the first time...and partly with a mist of tears which he had to blink away quickly. This was commissioned as a memorial to his oldest and dearest friend, Mr Wink. Slowly, he reached out his hand and his fingers slid gently around the grip until he held it tightly in his grasp. It fitted his hand perfectly, as he knew it would. He lifted the sword up so that he could examine it more closely.

Oard always got everything right, the grip, the length, the weight, the balance. After what would seem to be a cursory glance at the person, he had a literal measure of them and would be able to come up with a blade fit for use, and after only a few more moments of listening to them talk, he would know exactly the kind of magic to weave into it to bind it to them. If it's owner died and anyone else tried to wield it, it would simply shatter as if it were made of glass. This is why these weapons were generally buried along with their owners, as they were of no use to anyone else, though some were kept as heirlooms to be passed down from generation to generation in honour of the illustrious ancestor.

Nuada's eyes ran down the blade, taking in the delicate tracery of decoration that Oard had etched into it and read the glyphs that proclaimed his ownership of it...and the memorial to Mr Wink, which used words that spoke of honour and respect to a great warrior and beloved friend that had passed into darkness. It was truly beautiful...as were the sentiments it expressed, and Nuada swallowed hard, choked for a moment with emotion. He walked a few paces away from his friends so that he could try out the blade, swinging it in an arc, cutting the air with a loud swooshing sound. He twirled it round in his hand, creating bright circles of reflected light as the glow from the forge glinted from it's silver blade, finally coming to a sudden stop with it held straight out before him, unwavering and perfectly still.

Lowering his arm, he took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Nuada turned to his friend, a gentle smile gracing his dark lips. 'What words can I say?' he said finally, totally in awe of the Goblin's craftsmanship and intuition. Oard smiled back and bowed in thanks of his friend's obvious appreciation and total acceptance of his work, and walked over to pick up the scabbard he had fashioned to protect the new sword, another work of sheer beauty, naturally. Nuada took it and slowly slid the blade into it, then placed it back down on the board, almost reverently. Turning back to the smiling Goblin, he placed his hand on his heart and bowed low to him. 'Thank you, dear friend,' he said simply, not able to say more for fear of his voice letting him down.

The Goblin accepted his thanks graciously, then decided it was time they sat together for a more relaxed talk. Nuada and Oacma followed him as he walked further back into the mountainside and into his more comfortable domestic dwelling. There was a large hearth in which a roaring fire burned, though the temperature in here was far more comfortable. A number of seats were placed in front of it, and there was a large table to the side of the room upon which stood various boxes and a small cupboard.

Oard bade his guests sit down and make themselves more comfortable as he walked through an archway into another room, returning a short while later with three small drinking vessels and a bottle. He put them down on the large table, then brought across a smaller one, placing it in front of the three seats. Fetching the bottle and cups, he sat himself down on the free chair beside Nuada, pulled the stopper from the bottle and poured each of them a drink. 'The best mead,' he said quietly. 'Perfect with which to toast a new sword...and the good friend whom it commemorates,' he said, raising his cup. Nuada and Oacma also raised theirs. 'Codladh sámh, mo chara!' said Nuada sadly. 'Codlah sámh!' came the response and all three downed their drinks in one, setting their cups back down on the table in front of them. Nuada sighed and gazed into the fire as he thought of his lost friend and how much he missed him every single day. They had been inseperable for well over two thousand years. How he was meant to get used to the gaping hole that his friend's passing had left in his heart he didn't know. Day by day, he supposed and year by year...century by century...

Nuada could feel himself withdrawing into his sorrow, but this was not the time nor place for it. He had good friends here and he needed to focus his attention on them too. He turned to Oard and they talked for a long while about their old friend, reminiscing with tales of his great prowess as a warrior, his unwavering loyalty as a friend...and Oacma chuckled along with them as they related some lighthearted tales of Wink's more humourous adventures. It was the perfect way to remember him, and Nuada was glad he could share it with two others that he considered his friends too.

These reminiscenses brought his mind back to another friend he had lost, someone Oard had known well. In fact, it was this friend who had first introduced him to the Goblin smith. As such, he decided to include him in this other piece of news that only his closest circle of friends knew about. The prophecy...and Sanshara.

'You mean to say she may still be alive?! Oard exclaimed in surprise. 'It seems that it may be so,' Nuada replied quietly, still hardly believing that it may be possible, especially after so long. The Goblin had known Sanshara for a long time before she had met the Prince for the second time. She had helped him to track down one of his kin after the community in which he had lived was attacked and destroyed by humans. It may have happened after the 'truce', but nothing had been done to make them atone for it. The community was once in the centre of a forest, but as the humans had spread, tree by tree, the forest was felled, the wood used as fuel or for building material, until the day came when there was nowhere else for the humans to go other than to take possession of the area in which the Fey were living. They obliterated them completely, leaving no trace of their existence whatsoever, and all those who had been lucky enough to survive were left to wander alone in the world, searching for their distant family and a new home.

Sanshara had found his cousin exhausted and half-starved in one of the human's cities, hiding in a filthy sewer, cloaked in glamour and waiting to die. She had taken him back to one of her own meagre hideaways and nursed him back to health, sending a message back to Oard that he was safe and that once recovered she would bring him home to be with his kin once more. The Goblin had never forgotten what she had done for him and had insisted on crafting a wonderful sword for her, one that she kept with her always...and one which Nuada had himself witnessed her using to great effect as a weapon both conventional and magical.

All this had brought him to his next errand. He turned to Oacma and Oard. 'There is somewhere else I have to go,' he said quietly, '...but this is something I have to do alone.' He was hoping his friends would not take offence at this, but he need not have worried. 'If you need to go now, I will happily stay here with my new friend until you return,' said Oacma, smiling at Oard who nodded and smiled back, quite content. 'As long as you don't mention it to the Chamberlain, then neither shall I,' he said with a grin. Nuada chuckled. 'Indeed, it shall stay between ourselves,' he said with an amused smile. 'I'm sure Oacma would appreciate a more in-depth look at the forge and some of the weapons I have finished,' said Oard, happy to show his work to someone who would obviously appreciate it greatly. Oacma's eyes lit up at this and Nuada smiled knowingly.

With this agreed upon, they all stood and walked back to the doors of the smithy and when opened it revealed that the snow had indeed begun to fall again as predicted, flurries of large white flakes blown around in the icy wind. Nuada turned back to his friends. 'I shall not be gone for long. Thank you for your understanding, my friends,' he said gratefully, nodding in appreciation. With that, he turned and walked outside into the now fast-falling snow, closed his eyes and disappeared.

He materialized shortly afterwards in a beautiful forest glade which was barely lit by a weakly shining sun. The trees here were huge, aged and absolutely beautiful. They were the Children of Aiglim, The Ancient Ones, the oldest living trees on earth...and they liked nothing better than a little conversation with a visitor.

Nuada approached the largest of the trees and reverently knelt on one knee before it. 'Ah, you have returned to visit us once more, young one,' said the tree. He could understand the strange creaks and rustling sounds as speech, as all the Elves and Fey could. Nuada smiled at being called 'young one'. There were very, very few living things who could possibly consider the Elves to be young at several thousand years old. 'Come now, dear Prince,' the tree continued, 'sit and talk with us for a while. It has been too long since you last visited us.' 'Thank you, friend,' said Nuada and he sat himself cross legged on the ground before it, resting his elbows on his knees.

'The west winds brought us tellings of what has come to pass at the Court of King Balor. We have waited many a season for the cycle to complete. So, now it ends and another begins,' it sighed. Nuada gazed sadly at the autumn leaves which lay strewn across the forest floor. They reminded him so much of the golden leaves which fell perpetually wherever the King held Court. Though now, of course, they fell no more. They would not fall again until a new monarch was crowned.

'Indeed, it is so,' said Nuada sorrowfully,'..and if I could go back I would gladly take Father's place...though I know he would do everything in his power to prevent it...' he closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. He felt so very tired of carrying the weight of so much sorrow and loss. Only these ancient trees could possibly understand. They had witnessed the passing of countless Elven kings in their time...and the passing of the rest of their kind too. The trees surrounding this small glade were all that were left of them now. 'You speak truth, young one,' the tree whispered. 'The future of your people is in your hands now...but fear not...we shall always remember what is past...Balor's name will not be forgotten...nor his love for his son...' Nuada lifted his head and gazed at the tree. Somehow its words seemed to help. 'Thank you, Wise One,' he whispered sadly, reaching a hand out to touch one of the gnarled roots which ran close by him. They shared a few moments of silent communication, images and emotions passing between them as they had in the days before the first words were spoken.

'Well now,' said the tree at last. 'You have come to us for a reason, have you not, young one?' it asked knowingly. Nuada was well aware that the trees would know why he was there from the very second he arrived. 'I have,' he replied with a nod. 'I need to retrieve that which I left in your safekeeping,' he said quietly. 'It seems that it may still be useful...despite what happened the last time it was called upon.' 'Ah, the prophecy,' said the tree, knowing full-well what it was all about. 'Then here you are...' it said, and though not so much as a twig moved in the breeze, something fell with a gentle thud into a pile of dried leaves in front of him, '...may it help to find her...we have missed her company this long while,' it sighed. 'As have I,' Nuada whispered as he picked up the object that lay amongst the leaves. He gazed at it thoughtfully for a moment before stowing it away inside his clothing.

He reached out and laid a hand on the tree root once more so that he could thank it and its kin properly for all that they had done for him and to share the joy of being with them once more. But though time seemed to move more slowly here, out in the world it was moving on at the same pace as before and as such Nuada knew it was time he returned to his friends or they would begin to worry about him.

The trees sighed sadly as Nuada stood once more. 'I shall return,' he said, his tone a little more positive than before, '..and if it is meant to be, our friend will accompany me.' He gazed round at the surrounding trees, a gentle smile on his lips. 'Until then, my friends...may you remain hidden and safe from all harm.' He bowed low to the largest of the trees as they all whispered their goodbyes, sounding like a gentle breeze blowing through their slowly drying leaves. It didn't matter where he was in the world, he could sense the life-force of these old friends as a distant current of energy, just on the very edge of his consciousness. If anything ever happened to them...he didn't know quite what would happen to his world. They were like an anchor to his people's past. Without them...he felt they may simply drift inexorably towards a dark and spiritless half-life.

He stepped into the centre of the glade and took one last look around, then with his hand on his heart he bowed to his friends, then closed his eyes and disappeared from their midst.

Within moments he was back outside the smithy and he had to blink away a snowflake that landed gently on his dark lashes. He could hear voices coming from inside the building. One was definitely Oard's and he could hear Oacma too. The other he didn't recognize, though its timbre suggested that there could be another Elf inside. His natural wariness kicked in, and his left hand moved instinctively to grip the top of the scabbard he had at his hip. He was, after all walking into a building filled with the best weapons available and someone he did not yet know stood close by them. He listened for a few seconds to the tone of the conversation, then quietly opened the door and let himself inside, being careful to keep his sword arm free of obstruction...just in case.

As he entered, three heads turned to look and he found himself looking into the eyes of someone he had hoped never to see again. 'Sire!' said the new voice, in that particularly sly way of his. 'How pleasant it is to see you again.' Nuada tried very hard not to show his irritation as he nodded in reply to the deep bow that the Elf had just displayed. 'Glicheal,' he replied, his tone devoid of any emotion. 'I am surprised to see you here.' He could not imagine him having arrived at a forge in search of a weapon, that was for sure. Glichael was not one for being so open in his intentions as having a blade in his hand. 'As am I to see you again, Sire,' said the Elf, his eyes taking in everything about the Prince's appearance...especially the fact that his hand was still placed in readiness to withdraw his sword if need be.

Oard did not know Glichael himself, nor did Oacma, but Nuada had been unfortunate enough to come across him before. 'And how does your brother fare?' asked Nuada, purposely keeping eye contact with him, his gaze boring into Glichael like a hot poker. He knew well enough why the Prince was asking after his sibling. 'He is well, Sire,' he said, squirming slightly under Nuada's cold glare. 'I am glad to hear it!' The tone of voice left no doubt in his mind that if his brother had NOT been well, he would have had to deliver a very good explanation as to why he wasn't.

Glichael looked around rather furtively at Oard and Oacma who were watching the proceedings with interest. 'Ah, well, it is getting late and I must return home,' he said, edging slowly towards the door, though being very careful not to get too close to Nuada, to whom he turned and gave another low bow. 'Sire, by your leave,' he said, his eyes still on the Prince's sword arm. As he stood up, Nuada gave him a curt nod and the Elf practically bolted for the door and left the three friends looking at the now vacant doorway.

Nuada huffed in annoyance, his eyes dark and his hand only now slipping away from his sword. He did not like Glichael one little bit. And for good reason.

Oacma gave a little sigh of relief now that the other Elf had left. He always worried when Nuada was absent for even a short while, as everyone else who was close to the Prince did. Nuada allowed himself to relax and release the tension he felt at setting eyes on Glichael. Seeing his friend's quizzical expressions he decided they should be warned about him in case they encountered him in the future.

'You don't like him much, do you?' Oard asked outright, not one to mince words. Nuada couldn't help but smile at his friend's forthrightness. 'No, I do not,' he answered. 'We met some time ago when Wink and I were travelling through what were the lands of Ancorrbán. His father had died, leaving he and his brother to care for the rest of the family.' He scowled as he remembered their last encounter. 'Glichael did not agree with his brother's views on trading with a local human who had discovered their existence. He wanted to deal with the man, whilst his brother wanted to move them all to a place where they could hide once more. He didn't trust the human to stay silent.' This was a scenario that was quite familiar to both Oard and Oacma, each having heard such accounts numerous times. 'Wink and I came upon one of their sisters in the local troll market. She was searching for healing herbs but she didn't have enough to trade for them and was very distressed when we found her. We went back to the vendor with her and once he realized who I was he relented and gave her what she needed, then we escorted her home. On the way she told us that one of her brothers had become ill, though the local healer was unable to explain what ailed him. The herbs were the only thing she could recommend to treat the symptoms but could offer no real cure.'

Nuada's eyes darkened as he remembered it all. 'Glichael was more than a little shocked when we arrived with his sister and as today, he made his excuses and left quickly. We were shown to the brother's sickbed and found him to be seriously ill. We asked whether there were other cases of sickness in the area but there were none, and as the family recounted the recent trouble between the two brothers I grew more and more suspicious as to how the illness had come on so suddenly. As such, we asked the healer to return and in private we discussed the possibility of the sickness being brought on by foul play. After a short while we agreed that this must be the case...though we could not prove it.' He scowled at this, deeply angered that they could do nothing about it. 'When Glichael returned, it was obvious that he was very nervous...and we knew it had been he who harmed his own brother. I left him in no doubt that if we returned and his brother had not recovered, I would 'find' the perpetrator and make them pay for what they had done. When we did return a few weeks later, we found his brother well and back on his feet...though I don't think he ever came to realize who had harmed him.'

Nuada's eyes narrowed as he thought. 'I would not trust him in any situation,' he said quietly. He looked over to where Oard was standing. 'What reason did he give for coming here?' he asked, highly suspicious. 'He asked about the new weapons, actually,' said the Goblin thoughtfully. 'He seemed interested in the numbers being made, as you were.' Nuada eyed the weapons, wondering why he would be asking about them. 'I didn't tell him much,' said Oard, 'just that I had made some in the hopes that they would now be needed. I doubt he believed me, but neither of us liked the look of him when he entered so I decided to err on the side of caution.' 'You did right, my friend,' said Nuada nodding gratefully. 'I can see no good reason for him making enquiries of any kind to anyone about weapons,' he mused. But there was nothing he could do now to find out what he wanted the information for. He and Oacma had to return to Bethmoora.

After trying numerous times to get Oard to name a price for the sword, which the Goblin steadfastly refused to do, insisting that no payment was necessary, he had to admit defeat and gratefully shook the Goblin's hand with Oacma looking on, smiling at the friend's stubborn interaction. And this time it was Nuada who insisted on something...that should Oard need anything at all, at any time, he was to come direct to him at Bethmoora and whatever he needed would be his. 'You'll be seeing me soon enough,' laughed Oard amiably, 'when I come with whatever news I have gathered from my brother Smiths,' he added with a sly wink. 'I am very hopeful of bringing you some good news,' he said with a grin. 'I am truly grateful, Oard,' Nuada replied, finding it hard to express exactly how much his friend's generosity had meant to him. 'I look forward to our next meeting...and I shall ensure that we have mead to drink once more!' he said with a smile, knowing how partial his friend was to the golden liquid. He had been known to partake of a glass or two himself when circumstances allowed, and the thought of sharing another bottle with his friends gave him something rather good to look forward to.

But, now it was time for the three friends to part for the time being. After more hand-shaking and back patting, Oard finally handed Nuada his new sword and they said their goodbyes, Nuada and Oacma stepping outside once more into a snow-white world that was steadily succumbing to the growing darkness of twilight. The wind had, thankfully, dropped somewhat, leaving the snow to fall gently around them, adding to the ever growing drifts that softened the edges of the Smithy's walls and eaves and coated the branches of the surrounding trees, causing the thinner ones to droop under the weight of it.

With a smile and a small wave, Nuada and Oacma closed their eyes and left the Smithy to return to Bethmoora.


End file.
